


Stolen Bases, Stolen Hearts

by makeitmine



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Blaine Big Bang Challenge, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-15
Updated: 2013-09-15
Packaged: 2017-12-26 14:39:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/967127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makeitmine/pseuds/makeitmine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine Anderson, baseball's next superstar, is loved by millions, but he's secretly on the hunt for his soulmate. It doesn't take long for that search to become public. Will he meet the mysterious Kurt Hummel before it's too late?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Beyond Dapper's](http://beyond-dapper.livejournal.com) Blaine Big Bang and prompted [here](http://glee-kink-meme.livejournal.com/41745.html?thread=55639825#t55639825) on the Glee Kink Meme.
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> First off, thank you to the incredible women who run the Blaine Big Bang. It's been a pleasure finally getting something in for this challenge.
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> I'd been wanting to write soulmate!fic for several months when I came across the prompt on the GKM. It fit perfectly because, after Blaine and Darren, baseball is my love. I planned it out, all the way down to him being in either Atlanta or Boston, the rivals of both New York teams. In the end Atlanta won because a. the stigma of being an out public figure in the South made for quite an interesting story, and b. I'm a huge Red Sox fan and it scared me to do that and ruin my love for both. A few weeks after I began plotting and writing, basketball player Jason Collins came out. I knew right away that this story was going to be even more special.
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> There IS mention of character death that's…well. Cory's death changed a bit of the plot for me and in fact worked out in my favor. 
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> Special thank yous go to my non-fandom friend Ashleigh, who deals with my obsessions and helps me work through everything, to [Stuts](http://stut--ter.tumblr.com) for encouraging me to write when I didn't want to write, and to [Beth](http://batkonehat.tumblr.com) for stepping in late and creating the wonderful art for the story.
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> Disclaimer: None of the characters or teams involved in the story belong to me; they are properties of either Ryan Murphy or Major League Baseball.

Upper Deck Rising Stars 2018: Blaine Anderson  
Full Name: Blaine Devon Anderson  
Date of Birth: 2/19/1995  
Birthplace: Columbus, Ohio  
Hometown: Westerville, Ohio  
Height: 5’8”  
Weight: 165 pounds  
Position: 2nd Base  
Bats/Throws: Right/Right  
Drafted By: Atlanta Braves, First Round 2013 Amateur Draft  
Debuted: 9/4/2015

* * *

Growing up, Blaine lived for baseball season. Every year the first Monday in April meant waking before sunrise, a two hour drive down I-71, a celebratory parade through downtown Cincinnati, and his first game of the season. Summer vacation involved more opportunities to head down to Reds games or up to see the Indians, along with many nights at Cooper Stadium wishing he would even be good enough to make a team like the Columbus Clippers, let alone the majors.

He began playing tee-ball in kindergarten and moved on up through Little League and a traveling baseball team until he became the only freshman to make Westerville High School’s varsity baseball team. Several collegiate baseball programs had their eyes on him and visited many times while he was a junior, the same season Blaine moved from third to second base and helped lead his team to the regional finals. He spoke with a number of coaches to set up visits over the summer and spent the fall of his senior year debating the scholarships he was offered. The following February, Blaine signed a letter of intent to attend University of Illinois and continue playing baseball for another four years before determining how his future would play out.

Then the first game of Blaine’s senior year a scout from the Minnesota Twins visited, and everything changed. Several more pro teams came and spoke with Blaine, showing a great deal of interest as he hit .481 over the season and took the Panthers all the way to the Division I state title game, where they lost to a team from Dayton. Blaine considered the silver medal given, along with the conference MVP award, to be his greatest achievements in the game.

Five days after he graduated from high school, Blaine received a call from the Atlanta Braves organization welcoming him to the team. His first assumption was that it was a prank call from one of the stoners in the school until he was invited to fly into Atlanta to meet with the club and sign his contract. After what felt like years, though it was only a few days, he made it there to sign his contract and immediately traveled to Danville, Virginia to commence his professional career.

2014, Blaine’s first full year playing in the organization, saw him begin in high Class-A ball in Rome before a promotion took him to Mississippi in late July. He started 2015 there as well before quickly being called up to the penultimate team, the Gwinnett Braves of the International League. His precision and power soon took off and Blaine began garnering even more interest from baseball bloggers, calling him one of the top ten prospects in the league.

But for as quickly as Blaine ascended through the ranks of the Braves’ organization, he still oftentimes felt a pang of loneliness. People in their late teens and early twenties generally began searching for their soulmate, the owner of the name adorning a wrist, at that point Working in such a high-profile field, players sometimes took ads out calling for their true love. Blaine couldn’t do that; one, because he hated the idea of meeting his destiny in a less than ideal setting, and two, because of his sexuality. His family and friends back home knew he was gay and had no issues with it.

Unfortunately, there were several obstacles in the way of letting his true feelings be known. The first was the utter lack of out professional athletes overall, let alone that zero Major League players had come out in the years following Brittney Griner and Jason Collins' admissions to the basketball world. The second reason was because Blaine played and lived in the Bible Belt, representing a team whose fanbase included a sizable chunk of people who would simply turn on him for being gay. He had a steady boyfriend in high school - a private school boy named Sebastian who irritated Blaine nearly as much as he loved him - but he never dated anyone after being drafted. Visits to gay bars were kept to when the Braves were on the road and Blaine could enjoy the pleasure and release of a night with someone. He'd meet with boys named Troy, Colton, or Nicholas, he'd take them back to his hotel room for a round or two of sex, and they would disappear. But they weren't the one he was meant to be with; nobody ever was.

Despite the fun and men he enjoyed, Blaine remained in the closet to entire Braves' organization until the AAA All-Star Game in Tacoma. He and teammate Mike Chang, a left-fielder from California who briefly made it to Atlanta the year before, were Gwinnett’s representatives on the International League team and shared a hotel room for the week. The night before the game, Mike came back right before curfew from an evening out with Tina, his high school sweetheart and soulmate, to find Blaine staring longingly at his left wrist.

"Hey, you okay?” Mike asked as he witnessed the tears building up in Blaine’s eyes.

“Shit,” Blaine muttered, quickly pulling the black leather cuff he wore off the field back over his wrist and wiping away a stray teardrop that escaped down his cheek. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good. Did you have a good time?”

“Incredible. I always forget how wonderful it is being around Tina when she’s back at Berkeley and I’m stuck in Georgia.” Mike sat down at the foot of Blaine’s bed. “You’ll find her, trust me, B.”

Blaine groaned and collapsed back onto the mound of pillows. “It’s not that simple, okay? It’s going to be hell for me.”

“Why? Because of the long road trips? Because of the potential to make it big?”

“No, Mike, not that.”

“So tell me why you’re so scared. Let me see her name, maybe we can look her up.”

Blaine shook his head. “If I show you the name, do you promise not to look it up? I just...I want to meet them naturally, not forced by me being a ballplayer or anything. And please, please don’t let anyone else know their identity.”

“Okay.”

He slowly unclasped the leather band, slipped it back off and, turned his wrist in Mike’s direction. The name _Kurt Hummel_ glimmered in silver underneath his palm. Blaine studied Mike’s face for any sign of disgust at the sight of a male name residing on him, yet it never came.

Mike eventually ran a finger across the marking and looked into Blaine’s eyes. “Wherever he is, I’m sure he’s just as amazing as you expect.”

“You - you don’t care? That I’m gay?”

“Why should I?” Mike scoffed. “It doesn’t change the fact that you’re a damn good player that is going to represent the Braves with me tomorrow and help destroy the PCL team.”

Blaine breathed a sigh of relief before pulling Mike into a hug. In the weeks following the All-Star Game, Mike encouraged him to come out to more teammates and some of the coaches. While a few men were less than accepting, the consensus around the clubhouse was that Blaine was a good guy and a great player, and sooner or later he would luck out and meet this Kurt fellow. By the end of July, Mike had been recalled to Atlanta. His parting words to Blaine before he got in the car waiting to take him to Turner Field were that they’d be playing together again very soon.

Sure enough, Blaine was brought up in early September when Major League rosters expanded to forty men. Though he only played in a handful of games, he still made quite an impact by smacking a two-run home run in his first career start. Reporters began talking about the future of the Braves with him and Mike, now an everyday player due to injuries, hoping to lead the team to an NL East title and possibly further. He got along well with many of the veteran players, most notably sixteen-game winner Wes Montgomery, and they also had no qualms regarding the identity of his soulmate.

As he reported to spring training the following February, Blaine felt better than ever. He spent the entire offseason devising a rigorous workout plan with Mike that would keep him in shape and hopefully get him back to Atlanta by midseason.

What he didn’t expect was to win a spot on the twenty-five man Opening Day roster. And the rest was history.

* * *

Anderson Ready to Lead Braves to Playoffs  
By Jeffrey West @JWest_AJC

Lake Buena Vista, FL

Don’t call Blaine Anderson’s 2017 season a sophomore slump. Sure, the 23-year-old Braves’ second baseman missed fifty-seven games due to a broken left hand and another handful at the end of the season for a strained hamstring, but he still managed to pull off a respectable .297 batting average.

“Every day I went out there and put in everything I could,” Anderson said from the clubhouse at Champion Stadium last week. “To me, that’s the only accomplishment I look to make during the season.”

That’s quite an understated goal for a player one season removed from winning the National League Rookie of the Year award. Anderson, however, isn’t worried about the personal accolades. He wants to see Atlanta in a playoff series, a feat that has eluded the team since its infamous September 2011 meltdown. “We just have to come together as a team to show the division that we’re ready and hungry for that NL East title.”

That might be harder than ever, with the Braves losing veteran centerfielder Jesse St. James to free agency and trading away their always reliable utility man Matt Rutherford to Texas for pitching prospect Sam Evans. Manager Will Schuester isn’t concerned, though. “Our lineup, top to bottom, is still the best in baseball, and Wes (Montgomery, staff ace) is at the top of his game.”

It also seems the team is gelling in ways it never has. With St. James, a notorious clubhouse cancer the past three seasons, now in the Bronx, this season’s Braves team has taken on a new attitude of camaraderie. Several groups of players have been spotted out and about in the Orlando area since February, including Anderson, Evans, and speedy leadoff hitter Mike Chang at Universal’s Islands of Adventure this past Saturday on their day off. This group included Chang’s soulmate, Tina, and two other females who tagged along. This may be troublesome news to the Warblettes, Anderson’s fan group named from his high school nickname of Blaine Warbler, that has a dedicated showing at Turner Field during the season. Anderson, whose following seems to quickly be rivaling that of Derek Jeter during his heyday, has always deflected questions on the identity of his soulmate and is never seen without a navy blue band or a black leather cuff covering up the name that resides on his left wrist.

Yes, it’s still March. Yes, the Nationals and Phillies may continue to dominate the division. But this isn’t your same old team. Anderson seems poised to take on the leadership role and continue his quiet drive to becoming one of the league’s premier ballplayers and bring the pennant to Atlanta for the first time in almost twenty years. Time will tell if this happens, but it seems things are about to change for the better.

* * *

Blaine heard a bunch of rustling coming from the locker on his right, jostling him out of his trance. Sam Evans had been assigned the space and was busy packing his bags up. “You okay there?” Blaine asked.

“I can’t do this, I’m terrible. I might as well just quit now before they send me down to the fucking Gulf Coast league,” Sam replied frantically.

“What, just because of one bad start?” Blaine stood up and placed a comforting hand on Sam’s shoulder. “I doubt they would demote you just for that.”

“But they could, right?”

“Could, but I really don’t know. It’s only one game.”

“Yeah, easy for you to say, Mr. Stud Second Baseman,” Sam snapped. “Five runs in two and a third innings when this may have been my last chance to impress the bigwigs? You have a bad game, you can just brush it off and go back out there. Me? I have to wait five days to prove myself again. What if they say I’m not good enough and send me to Gwinnett, or even lower?”

“Hey, just chill a minute, okay?” Blaine said. “Do you not remember that error I made trying to turn that double play in the second? That should have ended the inning, and my bobble led to that home run. You don’t need to blame yourself because it’s just as much my fault as it is yours.” He turned back to his locker and mumbled, “And believe me, sooner or later Braves fans probably won’t want me around.”

He noticed Sam freeze out the corner of his eye. “Wait, are you going to come out?” he asked quietly.

Blaine shook his head. “Not right now. Probably not until I meet Kurt, whenever that is.”

“It’ll happen, man. One day you’ll have Kurt and I’ll have Mercedes.”

“Yeah.” Blaine absentmindedly rubbed at his still uncovered mark, the cuff sitting on the top shelf of his locker. He was grateful Sam understood his situation. His high school sweetheart, Brittany, had the name _Santana Lopez_ appear on her wrist four months after they began dating. They remained together through graduation and Sam getting drafted to keep bullies from knowing she was bisexual. They were still close years later, and Blaine loved getting to meet the two girls when they flew in the weekend before and went to Universal with them, Mike, and Tina. “I just want to make sure he’s okay first.”

“I’m sure he will be.”

“Evans,” Will Schuester called out from the threshold of his office, “can I talk to you for a minute before you head out?”

“Uh, yeah, Skip, hold on a moment.” Sam frantically pulled his jeans and a t-shirt on before jogging to meet with Will. When he looked back to Blaine, he received a thumbs up sign, then nodded and walked in, closing the door behind him.

Blaine was certain everything would be fine with Sam, but he decided to stick around to support him anyway. Mike questioned him as he was leaving, and upon hearing the worry Sam projected to Blaine he grabbed Sam’s chair and joined him. Sam finally departed Will’s office after twenty minutes, looking no worse or better. “What happened?” Blaine inquired as he and Mike stood up.

“I’m not cut,” Sam said. As Mike began congratulating him, he held his hands up. “At least not yet. Schuester and Coach Montana want to move me to the bullpen, though.”

“That’s good though, right?” Mike asked. “They see your potential and want to work with you.”

“Yeah, I guess. But how many stars come out of the bullpen?”

Blaine shrugged. “I don’t know...Mariano Rivera? Trevor Hoffman? They did okay for not being starting pitchers.”

Sam finally broke into a faint smile. “Shut up, Blaine,” he laughed.

“Hey, just trying to make you feel better.”

“And besides,” Mike added, “that probably means they want to keep you in Atlanta for Opening Day. Did they call Wilson in to talk to you?”

“Who?” Sam asked.

“Marc Wilson, Gwinnett’s manager.” Blaine rolled his eyes when Mike said his name; Wilson had been one of the few dissenters when he came out and went a week without speaking to Blaine until Blaine threatened to file a complaint due to the league’s anti-discrimination policy based on sexuall orientation.

Sam shook his head. “Nah, it was just the two of them.”

Blaine and Mike shared a look. “Sounds like we need to take you out on a ‘welcome to the Majors’ night,” Blaine suggested. When Sam comprehended what he said, he began screaming and Blaine and Mike attacked him with a group hug.


	2. Chapter 2

2018 Projections  
1\. Philadelphia Phillies (96-66, NLCS)  
Coming off another World Series appearance the team, led by former MVP Noah Puckerman and last year’s Rookie of the Year Ryder Lynn, will no doubt continue its winning ways.  
2\. Atlanta Braves (92-70, Wild Card)  
Atlanta looks to be on the verge of becoming a powerhouse team. Expect another stellar year from Blaine Anderson as he grows - in capability, not in height, obviously. They should easily make it to the NLDS.

* * *

Mike met Blaine just inside the player entrance of Turner Field. “Welcome home.”

“Thank you, man. It’s good to be back.”

Opening Day was Blaine’s favorite day of the year. It symbolized a fresh start for everyone - thirty teams tied for first in their respective divisions. Earlier mistakes had been forgiven and hopes were refreshed for a run towards the ultimate goal of October. This one was even more special because it was Blaine’s first Opening Day in Atlanta after two spent in the minors and the Braves starting the two previous seasons on the road. He knew there was nothing like the celebration that all but shut Cincinnati down every year, but it was still going to be memorable.

Blaine and Mike entered the clubhouse and greeted their fellow teammates and the coaches. Everyone seemed to be in an enjoyable mood, ready to begin a brand new season and make Braves fans across Georgia, the country, and the world happy. Blaine stored his belongings in his locker and changed into his batting practice jersey, pants, and wrist band before heading up to the field, checking Will’s posted lineup on the way out and noting that he was batting third in the order, between third baseman Trent Raymond and right fielder Nick Duval.

It was normal for Blaine to be one of the first players to get warmed up, especially during day games when many took the time to relax. With the first pitch scheduled for just after 2, he knew getting stretched and working out his swing were a priority that early. The final week of Spring Training was a struggle, with Blaine going 2-for-11 in four games, and he wanted to figure out what was troubling him before he started the season off on the wrong foot.

“Blaine! Good to see you out here already, kid!” hitting coach Rod Turner called from his spot behind the batting fence as Blaine exited the dugout. He picked up his pace and jogged to home plate and shook Rod’s hand. “Ready for today?”

“You bet, Coach. Just want to take a bit of BP to figure out what I was doing wrong last week.”

Rod nodded in agreement. “Yeah, that was pretty uncharacteristic of you. Five strikeouts?”

“Don’t I know it,” Blaine lamented, shaking his head. “All I need is to be labeled a has-been just because I can’t hit my rookie numbers.”

“Well the season’s long, kid. A slump or two ain’t nothing to worry about.” Rod allowed Blaine to step into the batter’s box and take a few practice swings before yelling across to the mound, “Hey, Luis, go easy on Anderson until we can figure out his issues.”

Sixty feet away the bullpen coach, Luis Ramirez, acknowledged Rod’s statement and reached into the wire basket next to him, filled to the brim with pristine white baseballs. Blaine worked into his stance and began swinging at each ball Luis lobbed at him. After five minutes Rod stepped in and helped Blaine adjust his right arm into a new position. Blaine could tell there was in impact soon after when he sent the fourth ball thrown after the adjustment 400 feet into left-center, easily clearing the wall.

“There we go!” Rod called out through his enthusiastic applause. “Keep it up in the game and I think we may have solved the problem.” Blaine looked back and smiled at his coach before turning and settling in for the next pitch, which he turned into a line drive to straightaway centerfield. He took pitches for another few minutes before stepping aside to let Mike, who came up to the field with a few of their teammates, take some swings.

Before Blaine knew it, he was buttoning up the crisp white home jersey, pulling on the sharp navy blue ballcap, and preparing for the pregame fanfare. The murmur of his twenty-four teammates soon dissipated as he settled his mind into game mode. Blaine didn’t look at his main goal being the playoffs; he just tried to play at his best for one game and lead the Braves to victory. If he succeeded, great; if not, he’d try again tomorrow. The World Series was just an added bonus, one a vast majority of players to make the majors would never even reach, let alone win.

Will clapped his hands to get everyone’s attention. “Alright, gentlemen,” he began, “this is it. Right now, our road is clear. We have one hundred and sixty-two chances to make the people of Atlanta, of Georgia, and of the south proud and move on to the pinnacle of our season.

“I’ve known for many years that we’ve had the talent to go far in the playoffs, even while I was still a player and not a manager. This year, however? I believe that we can go all the way. We have a starting eight that bring assets from top to bottom, we have a pitching staff who can dominate like no other, and we have the drive that can - no, will take us to the first Braves’ World Series title in twenty-three years.” Will paused as the players cheered, agreeing that they could win a title. “Now let’s go out there and take care of those Phillies.”

Blaine felt electrified after Will’s speech, and stepping onto the deep green field to stretch out only helped. He looked around the stadium, filling up with eager fans taking the day off work or school to enjoy a game. The ovation they gave him later during player introductions, followed by the stark silence as the latest American Idol winner sang the Star-Spangled Banner, proved they were just as ready for the Braves’ season to begin as he was.

Philadelphia came into the game ready to attack. Their first two batters both reached on singles, one zooming to Blaine’s left as he dove to stop it. A sacrifice fly by Noah Puckerman brought in the Phillies’ first run, but Wes drove their cleanup hitter, David Thompson, to a full count and several foul balls before a soft grounder made its way to Blaine. He scooped the ball up, threw it to the shortstop covering second base to get the runner out, and he threw back to first base before David stepped on the bag. It wasn’t the ideal inning to begin the season, but it could have ended much worse.

Blaine sprinted to the dugout to put his cap and glove up and grab his bat and helmet. He was ready; he hadn’t faced their pitcher much before. Ryder Lynn was his successor as National League Rookie of the Year, and due to Blaine’s injuries and pitching rotations he’d only faced him in one game, where he went hitless in two at-bats with a walk. He stood on the top step of the dugout and carefully watched the way Ryder delivered the ball to Mike, noting the nuances from his fastball to his slider. Soon enough, Mike broke through and hit a long single to left field. Blaine stepped up into the on-deck circle and began swinging to get warmed up. Trent struck out on four pitches and said to Blaine as he made his way back to the dugout, “Go get him.”

The public address announcer’s voice boomed out as he made his way to the plate. “Now batting, the second baseman. Number twenty-four, Blaine Anderson.” Cheering overlapped the chorus of an old Imagine Dragons tune playing throughout the stadium. Though many players changed their at-bat song to the latest hip-hop or rock tracks each season, Blaine stuck with “It’s Time”, a song that he fell in love with his senior year and became his inspiration to do better every game.

Noah greeted him as he stepped into the box. “Welcome back, Anderson. Good offseason?”

Blaine tapped his bat on Noah’s shinguard in appreciation. “Yeah, I guess. I spent a lot of it working out and conditioning. Congratulations on your wedding, by the way. How’s that going?”

“Amazing,” Noah said. His soulmate was a budding actress named Quinn Fabray and their nuptials in January had been highly publicized. “Though I guess I passed the ‘Major League Bachelor’ title off to you, huh?”

“Yeah,” Blaine chuckled. He briefly straightened the sweatband on his left wrist before settling into his stance. “Good luck this year. You’ll need it when we run away with the division.”

Ryder threw his first pitch low on the outside corner, and the umpire noted it as a strike. Blaine noticed the smirk on Noah’s face as he tossed the ball back to the mound. “You wish,” he said.

Blaine was able to make contact with the second pitch, though it sailed over the Phillies’ dugout and well into the stands. He focused in again and hoped Ryder’s next offering was something he could handle. The ball came in down the middle and Blaine made contact, sending the ball all the way out of the park. It took Blaine a few seconds to realize what happened until he saw the left fielder trudge back to his position without the ball. From there, he jogged around the bases and took the moment in. A home run on the first at-bat of the season, with forty thousand fans cheering and celebrating, was a pretty big deal.

Mike waited for Blaine to cross home plate and held his hand up. “Way to be, buddy!” he exclaimed.

Blaine acknowledged the high five and patted Mike on the back. “I figured we needed a great start to a long year.” He picked up his bat from where it was dropped and they headed down the dugout where other players and the coaches congratulated him on the big hit.

The game remained under the Braves’ control until very late. When the ninth inning began, they had a 5-2 lead, their closer Eli Coles on the mound, and the bottom of the Phillies’ order up. Blaine knew when Eli entered the games it was a good thing, but it still drove him crazy. Eli was the only other gay member of the team and they hooked up several times after Blaine came to the majors, mostly during long road trips. Then Eli met his Chandler Kiehl last spring at the boutique he ran, and the nights of wild, unattached sex came to a halt. It didn’t help that, from Blaine’s playing position, Eli’s ass was basically on display up on the mound to remind him that while it was fun, it was never his.

Something about Eli was off from the moment he threw his first pitch. He normally showed tremendous control; a 94-mile an hour fastball and an average of 31 saves a season the past four years held him high amongst the top relievers in the game. This time, his pitches either never touched the strike zone or when they did, they went into play. Within the first four batters, two runs had scored and men were on the corners. Will rushed out of the dugout and gathered the infielders and catcher in for a meeting.

“Are you alright?” Will asked immediately.

Eli nodded, though his face looked pained. “I’m good, Schue. I just need to get into a groove here.”

“Eli, if you don’t feel like you can do this, you can step away,” Blaine added, trying to comfort his teammate rather than his ex-lover.

“I’m fine,” Eli hissed through gritted teeth. “Why don’t any of you believe me?”

“Because you look like your arm is about to fall off,” Will said. “I’m going to pull you out and get the trainers to look at you. Hopefully it’s nothing serious.”

“Fuck off, Skip, I said I’m fine!”

Will Schuester was not a manager who got angry much. He spent his playing days in Milwaukee, Atlanta, and Tampa, and retired to become a bench coach with the Rays. Four years ago the Braves hired him as the youngest manager in the majors, as well as one of the few who was genuinely nice to everyone on the field. He rarely argued calls or fought over something an opponent may have done. However, it seemed today he had no room for Eli’s antics. “Give me the ball and get in the locker room,” he slowly said, holding his hand out. Eli glared at him for a moment before placing the baseball in Will’s hand and slumping off to the dugout. Blaine clapped Eli on the shoulder on his way but received no reaction.

“Hey, Jim,” Will called out to their bullpen coach at the top of the steps. “Call for Evans.”

The move stunned Blaine. Sam had only gotten about ten days to get into his new role as a reliever, and now he was coming on in the ninth inning with the tying and go-ahead runs on. He turned around towards Mike, who moved up much closer to the infield, and they exchanged looks of worry for their friend. His walk in from the bullpen felt much longer to Blaine than most pitching changes on the field, and he was sure it was an eternity to Sam. 

When Sam reached the mound, Will softly spoke to him and handed him the ball before making his way back to the dugout. The other players that gathered went back to their positions, but Blaine stayed for another moment. “Go get’em, Sam. I believe in you.”

The worry in Sam’s face melted away at Blaine’s words. “Thanks, man.” Blaine smiled and clapped him on the shoulder as he turned back to second. He gave Mike a thumbs up, which was quickly returned.

Sam was given a longer warmup time than normal since Eli left due to injury and he hadn’t been up throwing in the bullpen. After three minutes of tossing to the catcher he indicated to the umpire that he was ready. The batter stepped up to the plate and prepared for Sam’s pitches. The first pitch grazed the inside corner and was called a strike. The next two were outside. On the fourth, the batter tipped it foul, and the fifth bounced into the dirt. Blaine began worrying what would happen with the count full. Sam went through his windup and threw the ball, and despite the batter’s best effort, he swung and missed.

Blaine pounded his fist into his glove in celebration. That out had been critical, but this next one was even more so, especially with none other than Noah Puckerman up to bat. Noah had a tendency to destroy Braves’ pitching and rack up RBIs. Sure enough, the first pitch Sam tossed for him he made contact. The ball dribbled up the left side of the mound. The shortstop rushed in to scoop it up and tossed it to Blaine, who stepped on the base to force the runner out. From there, he quickly turned and threw to first, where the ball landed in the first baseman’s glove a step before Noah reached the bag. Game over; Atlanta 5, Philadelphia 4.

It didn’t take long after the final play for Blaine to feel Mike hop up on his back. “Hey, now, you’re a little oversized for me, aren’t you?”

“Nonsense!” Mike said through his laughter. He finally jumped down and they joined the line of teammates and coaches for high fives. When they reached Sam, they both sandwiched him into a hug and let him know how excited they were that he got the save. There was excitement in the air, both from the team and the fans, and Blaine hoped it was a great sign for the enduring season ahead.

* * *

Atlanta’s First Month MVP Is...Sam Evans?  
By Jeffrey West @J_WestAJC

Atlanta, GA

Now that we’ve turned the calendar from April to May, it’s time to look back on the first sixth of the baseball season. The Braves had a good month, going 17-8 in that time. Blaine Anderson, to the surprise of no one, is already turning in solid numbers offensively and Mike Chang leads the NL with nineteen steals. But no, good fans, my pick for the team’s Most Valuable Player for the month of April is none other than de-facto closer Sam Evans.

Evans, a highly touted pitching prospect in the Texas Rangers’ organization, came over in the offseason deal that sent infielder Matt Rutherford to Arlington. Over there he was being groomed as the next great starter, with a crazy curveball as his signature pitch. Once he arrived for spring training, however, manager Will Schuester and pitching coach Jim Montana saw Evans to be a better fit in the bullpen. It was a tough call for Evans, a former Tennessee High School First Team selection, but he took his new role in stride.

Then on Opening Day against Philadelphia we all saw Eli Coles’ arm implode, along with the game the Braves had wrapped up. Out came Coles, in came Evans, and an Atlanta win wasn’t far behind. After Schuester learned the next day of Coles’ torn rotator cuff, he knew what the next step was to replace him.

Overall, Evans has gone 13-for-13 in save opportunities, has a 1-0 record with a microscopic 0.20 ERA, and has quickly become yet another young star on the roster. Many ladies are lining up to get ahold of Evans, who has brushed off rumors that up-and-coming dancer and longtime pal Brittany Pierce is his soulmate. He says he knows the identity of his special lady, but is keeping her under wraps until he has some free time to spend with her.

All we know right now is that Sam Evans may just be the final piece we’ve been waiting for to get that ring in October.

* * *

If there was anything Blaine hated more than having a bad game, it was having a bad game while his family and friends were looking on. Cincinnati was always his favorite stop on the road because it meant spending time with his loved ones that he rarely got to see during the season. His first call-up happened when the Braves were playing in Pittsburgh, and his parents took off from their jobs and made the short trip to catch his debut. Since then, they’d driven to Atlanta four times for long homestands and caught every game within four hours of central Ohio, even while Blaine was on the disabled list. It was his pals from Westerville, his former teammates and coaches, that he caught less of as they had more commitments to school and work that couldn’t be abandoned.

The first two games in the series against the Reds were very nondescript; Blaine went 2-for-9 in them, and they were each decided by only one run. The wrap-up, however, could have been considered Blaine’s worst game as a professional. 0-for-4, three strikeouts, one double play, and an incredibly costly error that drove in Cincinnati’s go-ahead run in the seventh. It was difficult any time a day like this occurred to his teammates and Blaine had to console them, but he was no match to them. Blaine tended to shut down when things went wrong, leaving it difficult for his fellow players, Sam and Mike especially, to get inside and find out what was wrong.

Blaine took his time undressing; ballcap, cleats, pants, sweatbands, jersey. He changed his undershirt out for the tighter black tee he wore coming in to Great American Ballpark that morning. Just as he reached to remove his compression shorts, he could hear a reporter step up to the locker.

“Blaine, Jack Baker with WCPO. Got a few moments to discuss the game today?”

“Sure.” He really didn’t want to. He wanted to get back to the hotel and sleep until the next morning when the team needed to be at the airport to head to Milwaukee.for the weekend.

The reporter nodded and called his cameraman over to get it filmed. “Okay, here we go,” Jack said as he watched the recording light come on. “Blaine, you had a rough go at it during this series. What do you think happened out there?”

Blaine shrugged and carefully thought out his answer. “You know, it’s a long season. There’ll be good days and bad days all throughout, and I was unlucky enough to hit a stretch of bad days while here in my home state. There’s really nothing more to it.”

“What do you think you need to do to get out of this slump?”

“Leave Cincinnati first,” Blaine joked. An almost imperceptible smile grazed his lips and he brought his left hand up to scratch at his neck. “I think Schue and Coach Turner will work with me once we get to Milwaukee to figure out what’s going wrong and deal with it from there. They always do their best to make sure we’re at our best, and this is nothing different.”

As Blaine gave his answer, he noticed the cameraman’s eyes widen and then look down at the carpet. Jack continued on without so much as a blink. “Did your family have anything to say after this performance?”

“I haven’t had a chance to talk to them yet. My parents were heading back to Columbus right after the game for an engagement they were unable to get out of, but I’m sure I’ll hear from them soon.”

“Alright. Thank you for your time, Blaine, and good luck.” Jack signaled to the cameraman to cut, and the two moved on out of the clubhouse. As they reached the door, the cameraman whispered something to Jack, who laughed it off. Blaine wondered if he said anything wrong while he grabbed the remainder of his street clothes and accessories and headed for the showers.

Blaine passed out the second he reached his hotel room, so when pounding on the door woke him up he was afraid he missed his wake-up call. He glanced at the clock on the nightstand which read 9:43. Their flight was scheduled for 8:30. When he realized it was pitch black outside, save for the bright lights of downtown Cincinnati and the riverfront, he felt better. But the knocking never stopped.

He finally got out of bed, stretched, and padded towards the door, opening it to reveal his best friends. “What?” he sighed, not fully in the mood to hit the town with them.

“Dude, why haven’t you been answering your phone?” Sam asked.

“I’ve been sleeping.”

“This whole time?” Mike added.

Blaine rolled his eyes. “Why does it matter what I do anyway? I spent the last two nights out and wanted to catch up on sleep after the fantastic game I played today.”

Sam and Mike exchanged a worried look. “You really don’t know what happened, do you?” Sam asked.

“No. Why, is something wrong?”

Mike took Blaine’s wrist and led him towards the room’s love seat. “I think you’re going to need to sit down for this, Blaine.”

Once the clothes strewn about the sofa were brushed to the floor and he was seated, Blaine really began to worry. “Guys, you need to tell me what it is before I freak out.”

“Blaine,” Mike began timidly, “when you were interviewed by that reporter in the clubhouse this afternoon, did you notice anything...missing, perchance?”

Blaine shook his head. “No. I mean, I was in the middle of changing so I wasn’t completely dressed...”

Sam sighed. “There’s really no easy way to say this...but your secret’s out.”

“Secret? What secret? The only secret I have would be about my soulmate and-” Blaine gasped as realization struck him. “Oh my god. How?”

“Your wrist was uncovered,” Mike said. “Let’s just say whoever Kurt Hummel is, he’ll probably be in for a wild ride once he hears.”

“This isn’t happening,” Blaine said. He heard the text chime on his phone and dove for it, only to find dozens of texts and missed phone calls that came through during his nap. He scrolled through the first few, ones from Mike and Sam, from Will, even from a few of his Westerville teammates, before closing out and opening up his browser and typing in mlb.com. The first headline, listed as breaking news, screamed at him. “‘Braves’ Anderson Bats for Other Team’. Seriously, they had to word it like that?” He clicked the article open, and sure enough it was accompanied by a screencap of the interview with the Cincinnati sportscaster, of Blaine scratching his neck with his soulmate’s name quite visible.

Blaine flopped onto his back, feeling the tears already welling up in his eyes. “I can’t believe this,” he choked out. “This was never the way I intended to come out. And that fucking cameraman had the audacity to notice and not say a fucking word about it.”

“Hey, hey,” Sam soothed. He laid down next to Blaine on his right side, while Mike sat behind Sam so they could comfort him. “It’s going to be alright. In a few weeks this will blow over and nobody will remember it.”

“Sam, we play in the Bible Belt. There’s no way this will just blow over like you think.”

“But people aren’t going to-”

Blaine cut him off. “Aren’t going to what? Give a damn that their favorite player is a queer? I wouldn’t be surprised if there were already petitions out to suspend me, or even worse, designate me for assignment.”

“They can’t do that, Blaine,” Mike chimed in, referencing the Major League’s anti-discrimination policy.

“I know that,” Blaine growled. “I’m just saying that Braves fans, even baseball fans in general, aren’t going to take this lightly. I’m only twenty-three, I’m just getting started for god’s sake, and they’re going to want to run me out of the game because they don’t approve of having a man’s name on my wrist.”

If he could have gone back in time to slip his cuff on before the reporter showed up, he would have in a heartbeat. Blaine knew even if a good portion of fans would still support him after this, many would be upset. Every time he thought about coming out after he came up to Atlanta, he brushed the idea off saying it was way too soon. The “ideal” time, knowing none would have been perfect, would have been in the prime of his career, when numbers were still up but his age was beginning to become a hinderance on his abilities, and when Kurt was comfortably by his side. Unfortunately, his bad day led into one drastic mishap that he would now have to deal with for the rest of his career.

Mike reached across Sam’s torso and carded a hand through Blaine’s shaggy curls; it was something he did with Tina regularly when they were together and she was stressed about school, and sometimes Blaine gave him permission to do the same to him. “The hatred won’t last forever, you know,” he said. “Eventually they’ll realize you’re just as talented as you were before this happened.”

Blaine sighed. “I know, but it’s just...even then, I’m no longer going to be Blaine Anderson, baseball player. I’ll be Blaine Anderson, gay man who happens to play baseball for a living.”

“So do your best to show that the former is who _you_ see yourself as,” Sam said. “Don’t let everyone else define you.”

“I wish it were that simple.” A knock interrupted Blaine’s train of thought. Thankfully, Mike decided to hop up answer for him, letting Will into the room.

“Blaine,” Will said, voice full of remorse, “we need to talk.”


	3. Chapter 3

*Transcript excerpt from SportsCenter’s Sunday Conversation, May 13, 2018*

Interviewer: How old were you when you first realized you were gay?

Blaine: I was...I don’t really remember. Ten? Eleven? All I remember is that it was before middle school. I remember thinking every girl in my class was pretty, but there was one boy who stood out that I wanted to kiss.

Interviewer: And did you?

Blaine: *laughing* No, I didn’t. He moved away in eighth grade and I never got the chance to confess.

Interviewer: Were you out to everyone as you came up through the Braves’ organization?

Blaine: Not the entire time. I mean, I had a boyfriend in high school but we broke it off after graduation and I left for summer ball.

Interviewer: And nobody from your old team then felt the need to out you and jeopardize your career in its early stages?

Blaine: I think they all realized the bad publicity it would cause; specifically my ex, as he comes from a high-profile family. But to answer your previous question, no. I didn’t come out until three summers ago, when I played in Gwinnett. Mike Chang was actually the first person I told.

Interviewer: And he’s your best friend on the team, correct?

Blaine: *smiling at the reporter* I couldn’t ask for a better one.

Interviewer: How did you feel learning you were going to be benched for the first two games in Milwaukee after the news broke?

Blaine: *hesitates* I wasn’t hurt, per se. Will (Schuester, Atlanta’s manager) came to me that night after it happened, right after I heard the news, and let me know it was in his best interest to keep me out of the early part of the Brewers’ series, to let the frenzy simmer a little. I completely understood his reasoning.

Interviewer: And were you prepared for the backlash?

Blaine: Absolutely. You know, when you live in such a conservative area, you’re more in tune to what people see as right and wrong. I knew there would be protests, I knew people would come after the organization for allowing me to play. But you know what? Everyone is entitled to their opinions, but I can’t change my sexulaity or the name of my soulmate any more than they can.

Interviewer: Are there any other players in Major League Baseball that are either homosexual or bisexual?

Blaine: *nodding* There are, in fact.

Interviewer: Care to give hints?

Blaine: Not a bit. When it’s their time, they will.

Interviewer: And finally, if your Kurt Hummel is out there watching tonight, what do you have to say to him?

Blaine: I want to say: Kurt, wherever you are right now, I’m thinking about you, and I cannot wait to get to know you.

* * *

“...the fact of the matter is he’s supposed to be a role model on and off the field for our younger generation. I feel like Major League Baseball is doing their fans a disservice by allowing him to continue playing and broadcasting his deviant behavior without consequence. I mean, if your son said Blaine Anderson was his favorite player, how would you feel?”

“Fuck off,” Blaine muttered as he flipped the television channel away from Fox News. In the weeks following his outing, nearly every dissenting group on homosexuality had come out of the woodwork to criticize him. Every news station in Atlanta had continuous coverage on the protests outside Turner Field during the first homestand after, and he plummeted from first to fifth in All-Star Game voting. The pressure ended up affecting him on the field as well. Until the final series against San Diego his concentration had fallen and the hits were scarce. After another benching from Will, he finally found his groove and showed signs of the Blaine everyone loved before they knew he was gay.

He was thankful they were in New York now. If any city was going to be a haven for him compared to his adopted home, this was it. And it made Blaine happy that they had four trips up this season; the standard three series at Citi Field against the Mets, the first of which they were finishing up that night, and one against the Yankees late in June. With Saturday having been an afternoon game, he took the evening to catch a performance of _West Side Story_ , starring the lovely Rachel Berry, incognito. Blaine doubted many reporters were looking to catch him anywhere but the top gay clubs in Manhattan, but just in case he gelled his hair down and exchanged his contacts for the glasses he was less fond of wearing before he went.

Blaine’s stomach grumbled at him and he looked at the clock. 2:45. They weren’t leaving for the game until 4:30, so he could easily order room service since that was on their per diem. But part of him really wanted some genuine New York style pizza. He stood up from where he’d been lounging on the bed all day, stretched his limbs out, and slid his loafers on to head out. Once his cell phone and key card were retrieved off the dresser, Blaine made his way out of his room and towards the elevator banks just as Wes stepped off one of them.

“Ah, Mr. Anderson,” he said as he held the elevator door open, “I was just coming to have a word with you.”

“You were?” Blaine was taken aback. He and Wes rarely spoke outside of work purposes, and he was one of the few players that refused to speak to the media when everything went down.

“Absolutely. Do you have a few moments?” Blaine nodded, still confused as to Wes’ true intentions. “Very well, then. Shall we head to your room?”

“Um, okay.” Blaine turned around and led Wes back to where he came from. “What’s wrong with yours? Aren’t you on this floor as well?”

“Yes, but Katherine is in for the weekend and she’s resting.” Blaine understood; Wes’ wife was due with their second child in September. “I was wanting to check up on you, see how you’re doing now?”

Blaine shrugged as he waved his key card in front of the metal handle, opening the heavy door as the green light appeared. “Alright, I guess. I’ve pretty much come to terms with the fact and I’m dealing with the hate as it comes.”

“You shouldn’t be doing that, though. It’s obviously a deterrent to try to get your mind out of the game and out of their lives.”

He figured Wes was going to come around and give his ‘former psychology major pep talk’ eventually. Even after ten years of professional baseball following his studies at Princeton, he was still the go-to guy for his teammates if they ever came into a situation needing his assistance and advice. “Well, what am I supposed to do? Retire at twenty-three? Demand to be traded to a more gay-friendly location? I can’t change the name on my wrist any more than they can.”

“I know that, Blaine,” Wes said, trying to calm him down. “But you need to get your head back into the game. This controversy - and I hate to call it that, because it shouldn’t be - is dragging you down, which in turn is dragging our counterparts down.”

“I worked it out the other day,” Blaine huffed. “Thank you for your concern, however. It would have really helped me two and a half weeks ago when this went down.”

Wes nodded glumly. “Look, I may have dropped the ball on that part. I felt like you needed some time to cope before I stepped in and now it’s so late...you’re an outstanding young gentleman, Blaine. You are strong, both physically and mentally. You embrace exactly what it means to be a teammate without drawing focus away to your own abilities, and you genuinely care for what happens to everyone rather than play only your part. It’s high time we get that Blaine Warbler back rather than the shell your outing has disintegrated you to.”

Blaine heard every word Wes said, though less eloquently spoken, in Will’s office before the series against the Mets began. The talk spurred his focus back onto the field rather than the drama surrounding him, and it was now being reinforced by someone who sat back and let him be until it was time to intervene. While Wes was more of a mentor to the pitching staff, Sam included, it was nice to know he genuinely saw all twenty-four teammates as younger brothers, even the long-term vets, and he was always there to help when needed.

“Thank you, Wes,” Blaine finally said. “I’m sorry what happened has affected me so much and I promise to you - to the rest of the Braves - that I am doing everything I can to put this behind me and resume giving it all on the field.”

Wes gave a nod and leaned in to hug Blaine. “And don’t worry about whether or not he shows up. He could be around the corner just when you least expect it.”

“Oh, I know,” Blaine replied, smiling down at his cuff. “Say, want some pizza before we head to the stadium? My treat.”

“Sounds delightful,” Wes said as he pulled back. “Just let me wake Katherine up to see if she needs anything.”

“Of course; I’ll be by the elevators.” Wes departed the room and Blaine sank down on the mattress and exhaled deeply. All he wanted was for every news outlet, every fan who had an opinion on what he should do, to disappear and allow Blaine to get back to the one thing he loved.

Hours later, after Atlanta blew New York out of the water, Blaine knew the talk with Wes and lunch afterwards had been exactly what he needed. He clubbed two home runs in the game and drove in five of the Braves’ eight runs. The team was in high spirits, which Will congratulated them for in the clubhouse postgame. It felt to everyone that they were finally ready to make that run towards the top.

Blaine lazily toweled his hair dry after his shower while Mike sat down on the bench in front of the adjoining locker. “Killer game tonight, Blaine,” he said, holding his fist out for Blaine to bump.

“Thanks, man. I think I’m starting to feel like myself again.”

“Sam wants to hit up this jazz club in SoHo. He claims Ms. Jones plays there all the time and it’s time to finally meet her. Wanna come?”

Blaine chuckled. Sam’s overexuberant fanboying of his own soulmate was well-known amongst the team. Mercedes Jones did have an incredible voice, Blaine could easily admit after hearing both of her albums and the live tracks Sam had ripped onto his laptop. The only thing holding their meeting back was Sam’s reluctance at using her fame to get ahead, even as his star was rising in its own right. However, after an hour of watching Wes dote all over Katherine and their unborn daughter, the last thing he wanted was to partake in more activities with other couples around to make him long for his own match.

“You know, I think I’m going to turn in early tonight, just catch a cab back to the hotel. Tomorrow’s a day game and I want to go into it well-rested so we can head back home on a winning note.

“Besides,” Blaine added as he tossed the towel on the bottom of his locker and reached in for his shirt, “fifty bucks says that if Mercedes is even there Sam chickens out.”

Mike bursted out into laughter. “You’re on,” he said. They shook hands to seal the bet and he stood up. “See you in the morning, man.”

“Sure thing, you guys have fun.” Blaine rested his head on the solid oak panel separating cubbies. Most of the players and coaches had already departed, leaving only a few stragglers behind. He pulled his black cuff off the shelf and snapped it onto his wrist, gathered his belongings, and tossed the damp towel into the laundry cart before he made his way out of the clubhouse and through the exits of Citi Field.

To Blaine’s surprise, there were still fans lingering by the entrance to catch a glimpse of their favorite players. Several of them began calling his name to get his attention. He warily looked over and saw the majority of them had autograph books and cell phones at the ready for proof that they met the one and only Blaine Anderson. Blaine brightened up as he jogged over to meet the fans.

“Blaine!” the girl at the front of the crowd shouted, “I’m sorry for what happened to you.”

He flashed her a warm smile. “Thank you so much,” he replied as he took her proffered Sharpie and began writing on the open page of her Mets game program. “What’s your name?”

“Sabrina,” she said. “I’ve always admired your skills, but now you’re even more inspirational to me. My half-brother is gay and everyone picks on him because of it. You’ve been dealing with it all so well and I hope someday Ryan will be able to do what he loves and not be mocked because of the name on his wrist.”

“Well, I hope the same thing. Would you like a picture, Sabrina?”

Sabrina’s face lit up. “Sure!” She pulled her phone out and handed it to her friend to get the shot. “Thank you so much, Blaine. And good luck to you the rest of the year!”

“No, thank _you_.” Blaine gave her a quick hug before he moved on to the next person. While the group surrounding the barricade was quite sizeable, definitely the largest he’d seen for him outside of Atlanta this season, he noticed one young man standing off to the side through the corner of his eye. As the crowd dwindled away and moved on to one of the Mets’ players that was now signing, he looked towards the man. 

He was in no way dressed for a night at the ballpark, instead dolled up in tight black pants, a light gray fitted tee, and a deep maroon vest with gray pinstripes. Even had he been in a standard Mets tee and jeans like many of the other fans, Blaine still would have felt an overwhelming need to reach out to him. The man was gorgeous, with brown hair that was obviously meticulously styled and facial features that made him modelesque. Blaine began to wonder if the guy was there to hit on him. The Warblettes never made their intentions of hooking up with Blaine secret, though he always politely declined their requests to hit up a local bar with them. Even before he was out gay men were no strangers to this routine, either.

Blaine finally finished with the last of the group and strolled to where the man stood when he glanced down at the concrete in embarrassment. “Hi,” Blaine said gently, “are you alright?”

The man shook his head. “Not right now,” he whispered.

“What’s wrong? Do you need someone to come check you out?”

“No, it’s not that. I just...I can’t do this when people are around.”

Blaine had met shy fans before but never one like this. “Okay. Why don’t you come across here and we’ll go somewhere else? Do you have any friends or family with you?”

The man shook his head and looked up. Blaine became mesmerized with his eyes, a swirl of blues and greens. “Are you sure?”

He nodded and held a hand out. “Come on, I’m not scary.” The man took it and climbed over the barrier as gracefully as he could. Blaine led him to an empty spot along the walkway where no one could overhear them. “Let’s try this again. Hi, I’m Blaine. What’s your name?”

An eternity passed before the man finally spoke. “My name’s Kurt. Kurt Hummel.”

Blaine felt as if the wind were knocked out of him. His brain did its best to form a coherent reply. “I...wow. I’m so...really?”

Without question, Kurt lifted up his right arm and removed a fancy silver bracelet from his wrist. Underneath, adorning his creamy skin, two words glimmered in silver below the halogen lights of the facade: _Blaine Anderson_.

“Oh, my god,” Blaine murmured as he reached in and traced a finger along the letters. “This is unbelievable. But why now?”

Kurt glanced back up at Blaine, still somewhat in shock. “What do you mean?” he asked.

“Why did you come to me now after all this broke? Why not the last two seasons?”

“I didn’t know.”

Blaine scoffed at the answer. “Kurt, I’m...okay, this may be egotistical of me, and I swear I’m not usually like this. But I’m pretty well-known, and given that my first name isn’t exactly common I’m sure you would have realized it was me in any game highlight reel you watched.”

“You know, maybe here isn’t a good place to discuss this, either,” Kurt said abruptly, his eyes darkening. “Can we go somewhere much more private?”

“Um, yeah, sure,” Blaine replied. “Do you want to come back to my hotel with me to talk?” As soon as he realized what he said he blushed and giggled. “Not...not for anything like that, seeing as we’ve only known each other for about two minutes. But to get to know each other - who we are. To learn about everything.”

Even as much as Blaine was jamming his foot in his mouth, his suggestion still elicited a smile from Kurt. “Sure, I’d like that.”

“Awesome,” Blaine said. He opened up his satchel to pull out a small notebook he always kept on him if he needed notes while on the phone. He ripped out a clean sheet of paper and scribbled his number on it, along with _Grand Hyatt - East 42nd - Room 1109_. “Here you go,” he said as he handed the sheet over to Kurt.

Kurt glanced at the writing and nodded. “Alright. I’ll see you there.”

“Great.” Blaine began walking backwards towards the main entrance of the stadium. He waved to Kurt, who returned the favor before Kurt looked over at what was left of the crowd, too engrossed in the remaining players, before making his way to hail a cab.

The ride back to the hotel was agonizing. Since it was Memorial Day weekend, traffic was heavier for a Sunday night and it took some time to travel from Flushing to Manhattan. Then the wait in his room made him restless and he kept running around making sure his dirty clothes were in hiding and the duvet was laying smoothly on the bed. Thankfully there was only a five minute delay between his return to the hotel and the rap on his door. “Hey,” he said breathlessly as he opened the door and ushered Kurt in.

“Hey, yourself,” Kurt replied. He made his way into the room and took the amenities in. “Wow, they don’t spare any expense for you, do they?”

“When you spend four to five months living out of your suitcase every season, it’s best to be pampered,” Blaine joked. “Go ahead and have a seat. Would you like something from the minibar?”

Kurt shook his head. “No, thank you. I’m not much of a drinker thanks to a...rather unpleasant experience in high school.”

“I understand,” Blaine sympathized, thinking back to the first time Sebastian got him drunk and he was placed on probation by his baseball coach and the athletic director for being caught at the party. “How about some water?”

“Sure,” Kurt said. Blaine took the two tumblers from the ice tray and slipped into the bathroom to fill them. He came back to the main area and handed one glass to Kurt and sat down next to him on the loveseat.

Kurt took a sip before setting the glass down. “Thank you, Blaine.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied, settling in.

“Look, going back to your last question before we left...” Kurt trailed off before looking back at Blaine. “I don’t follow sports. At all. I’m sorry. Literally the first time I heard your name in the news was the morning after the photographs leaked and my roommate showed them to me.”

Blaine tilted his head trying to understand what Kurt said. “And he never made the connection before?”

“She,” Kurt corrected him. “And she’s even less into them, if that’s possible.”

“I see,” Blaine said. “Nobody knew?”

“The only person who followed baseball and knew the name of my soulmate was my stepbrother.” Blaine noticed tears welling in Kurt’s eyes as he spoke, so he knew there must have been a story for another time. “My dad, too, but he only follows the Reds and I don’t think he remembered your first name.”

“The Reds? You’re from Ohio?”

“Lima. It’s about two hours north of Cincinnati, so it was natural. Why?”

“I’m from outside of Columbus,” Blaine blurted out too quickly. “A town called Westerville.”

“Really?” Kurt chuckled. “I’ve heard of it. There was a school there that my high school’s show choir regularly competed against...Dalton?”

“Yeah, that’s them, though I didn’t attend. I knew some others who did, though.”

They talked for ages on everything: growing up, their families, coming out, work. Blaine learned Kurt was a columnist for Vogue and had recently finished his bachelor’s in journalism from NYU. “It was never my intentions growing up - I always wanted to be on Broadway.”

“Oh, yeah? What happened?”

“Rejection happened,” Kurt said sullenly. “My roommate was accepted into NYADA and I wasn’t.”

“Kurt, I’m so sorry,” Blaine replied. He reached over and placed a hand on Kurt’s shoulder in consolation. The touch sent an electric jolt through him and he hoped Kurt didn’t think it was too forward.

“It’s alright, water under the bridge now. She’s successful, I’m successful, and we’re enjoying everything New York has to offer. Now, what about you? What got you into baseball?”

Blaine explained how he fell in love with the game growing up and was shocked at the interest in drafting him straight out of high school. Kurt seemed genuinely interested in his history and kept asking about his position, about things that happened in the game, and about how the team reacted.

“Generally they’ve all been incredibly supportive. Mike Chang, he played tonight, he was the first person I came out to before we made it to Atlanta. He and Sam Evans, one of our pitchers, are my two best friends on the team. They’ve done everything to make sure I’ve been as comfortable as possible during this...this mess.”

Kurt nodded along as he spoke. “That’s good. And none of them, you know, gave you crap for it?”

“Not at all. There were a few people against me while I was still in triple-A - the level below the majors - but thankfully, the league has a no discrimination policy against sexual orientation. Which I am beyond grateful for, especially being based in the south.”

“Yeah, I’m guessing that has brought about an issue of its own.”

“Absolutely,” Blaine nodded. He prepared to talk about the protests and boycotts many legions of Braves fans set up before he saw Kurt stifle a yawn. He looked at his watch and noticed it was already past 3 in the morning. “Wow, I didn’t realize it was so late. I should probably let you go, especially since I have to be back at Citi Field in less than eight hours.”

Kurt pouted until he yawned again. “You’re right,” he said. “As fantastic as it’s been to finally get to know who my soulmate is, I need to get home before Rachel looks into filing a missing person’s report.”

Blaine stood from the sofa and walked with Kurt to the door out to the hallway. “Do you want me to walk you down to the lobby and wait until you catch a cab?”

“No, thank you. You need to rest up so you can be the best player out on the court this afternoon.”

“Field,” Blaine corrected through laughter. “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you everything about the game in the coming weeks. Feel free to call or text me at any time.”

“I plan on doing that quite a bit,” Kurt said. Sighing, he added, “I wish I knew when I was going to see you again.”

“I’ll be back in town in like, three weeks? We play the Yankees then, and we’ll have two more trips up here to face the Mets between now and September. Plus I’m sure it wouldn’t be a problem to fly you out to Atlanta or any other city I’m in once we’re more connected.”

“True.” Kurt opened the door and turned around. “It’s been a pleasure, Blaine. Thank you for a night I’ll never forget.”

“Thank you for the same, Kurt.” Blaine leaned in and pecked Kurt on the lips, a quick kiss even for their first. Once he pulled back, Kurt chased him and kissed him deeper. The jolt Blaine felt before at just touching him was now amplified as every nerve fiber heated from the knowledge that he was now with his soulmate - maybe not officially, but the bond was beginning to form between them.

Kurt ended the kiss and looked at Blaine, pupils blown and lips wet and red. “I’m sorry.”

Blaine sputtered. “What? What for?”

“That this was how we had to meet. You didn’t deserve it, I didn’t deserve it. I think, under different circumstances, this would have been a dream.”

“Kurt, don’t worry about it,” Blaine soothed. He reached around and stroked at the nape of Kurt’s neck. “Even if it wasn’t ideal, you still took my breath away when you introduced yourself.”

Kurt blushed, a shy smile gracing his beautiful face. “I better get going. Goodnight, Blaine.”

“Goodnight, Kurt.” Blaine waved to him as Kurt began his trek to the elevators. He returned the wave and grinned as he turned the corner and out of Blaine’s sight.

Blaine stood in the doorway for a few moments after Kurt’s departure reminiscing over the last several hours. He went into the game with a new drive to prove the people against him wrong, to still be the player he’d always been. And he walked out of there with his soulmate, the person everyone knew was now his best-kept secret. He finally closed and locked the door and pulled his phone out, noting a missed text from Mike.

_Poor Sammy...we missed Mercedes by about 25 mins_

He smiled to himself as he tapped the reply button. _Aww, sucks for him. Need to talk before BP tomorrow, you won’t BELIEVE how my night ended..._


	4. Chapter 4

_6/19/2018 7:16 PM  
Who’s this guy playing on second today? I wasn’t expecting to see someone that isn’t you._

_6/19/2018 7:20 PM  
Okay, you could have thrown the ball better than him._

_6/19/2018 7:29 PM  
Blaine, are you alright? Why haven’t I heard from you?_

_6/19/2018 7:31 PM  
Oh lord, someone didn’t come after you, did they? I can’t lose you when I just met you!_

_6/19/2018 7:35 PM  
Seriously, Blaine, I’m getting worried. Where are you?_

_6/19/2018 8:02 PM  
Okay they just showed you in the dugout. I’m feeling a little relieved_

_6/19/2018 8:44 PM  
Blaaaaaaaaaine. I miss you :( why isn’t it Thursday night so I’ll know you’re here in New York?_

_6/19/2018 8:51 PM  
You seem to be enjoying yourself in that little room, even if you aren’t answering me_

_6/19/2018 9:19 PM  
Wow! What a home run!_

_6/19/2018 9:20 PM  
That’s the correct term, right? See, I’m learning!_

_6/19/2018 9:42 PM  
They just said you’re in that circle thing. Does that mean you’re playing now?_

_6/19/2018 9:47 PM  
:( I’m sorry_

_6/19/2018 9:55 PM  
Oh, this new pitcher is gorgeous. Not like you, but I appreciate it_

_6/19/2018 9:57 PM  
Wait, that’s SAM??? YOUR SAM???_

_6/19/2018 10:00 PM  
I feel awful that I called your best friend hot_

_6/19/2018 10:13 PM  
Braves win! :D_

6/19/2018 10:41 PM  
To be honest I may have drunkenly called him hot during spring training

_6/19/2018 10:42 PM  
Blaine! Hi!_

_6/19/2018 10:43 PM  
And why do I feel this is one of those stories to remember?_

6/19/2018 10:43 PM  
Hi, Kurt

6/19/2018 10:48 PM  
1\. Will gave me the night off, so that’s why you saw Brett at second 2. No cell phones in the dugout (what you called the room, and I’m proud that you’re learning!)

6/19/2018 10:51 PM  
3\. You will absolutely NOT hear about my crush on Sam from my mouth 4. I miss you too :) and I’ll be there in under 48 hours!

_6/19/2018 10:55 PM  
:) I can’t wait!_

6/19/2018 10:59 PM  
Me neither! Too bad it’ll be too late for us to meet up again

_6/19/2018 11:02 PM  
I know. But after the game Friday?_

6/19/2018 11:04 PM  
Of course. It’s our first date, I wouldn’t miss it for anything

6/19/2018 11:06 PM  
Hey, I’m about to leave the stadium. Text you when I get home

_6/19/2018 11:07 PM  
Is it weird that I’m nervous already? Like, what if I make an ass out of myself in front of you?_

_6/19/2018 11:08 PM  
Alright, drive safely!_

6/19/2018 11:56 PM  
I did, thanks. And don’t be nervous. We’re already tethered for life

_6/19/2018 11:59 PM  
I’ve only done the first date thing a couple times, though :/_

6/20/2018 12:02 AM  
...that’s a couple more times than I have

_6/20/2018 12:03 AM  
What?_

6/20/2018 12:07 AM  
Sebastian is the only person I’ve ever dated, if you can even call those dates

_6/20/2018 12:09 AM  
Ohhh_

6/20/2018 12:10 AM  
Look, just don’t worry, alright? We’ll get through it :)

_6/20/2018 12:28 AM  
Alright. Just don’t laugh at me when I accidentally dunk my tie in my drink_

_6/20/2018 12:31 AM  
I’m going to head to bed now before Isabelle has it out for me for “another late night talking to the boy”_

6/20/2018 12:33 AM  
Lol alright. And if she complains, tell her I’m sorry and it’s my demanding schedule’s fault

6/20/2018 12:33 AM  
Sweet dreams, Kurt :) XO

_6/20/2018 12:35 AM  
You too, Blaine XO Night!_

* * *

“You look like you’re ready to get out of here,” Sam smirked.

Blaine flushed in embarrassment. “I know you don’t want to hear about this, especially when you still aren’t able to even say a word to Mercedes, but I’m really excited to spend this weekend with Kurt. The texts and phone calls have been a blessing, don’t get me wrong. It’s just...getting that chance to be together? To strengthen our bond? It makes the last six weeks so worth it.”

Sam patted the back of his bare shoulder. “I’m really proud of you, Blaine. Once I can corner Mercedes after one of her performances I know the sparks will be flying. So I’ll live vicariously through you and Kurt and your relationship.” He then dropped his voice to barely above a whisper. “Which, are you two going to, you know...”

“Please tell me you’re not insinuating what I think you are.”

“What? I’m just saying I hope he’s worth it for you!”

“I don’t even know if we’re to that point yet,” Blaine pointed out. It was slightly irritating that Sam was asking about his sex life; Blaine generally kept details about his life off the diamond to himself. Nobody in the clubhouse was even aware, or acted as if they were, about his and Eli’s previous hookups. He lifted the towel off his neck and began drying his hair some more. “Besides, we’re going to a Broadway show tonight so I can meet his roommate. That isn’t necessarily a sign that we’re going to get it on tonight.”

Sam muffled a laugh through his hand. “No, no, that’s fine. I was just wondering if you were thinking ahead to afterwards seeing as your gameplay today was...”

“Sam Evans, I swear, if you even go there...” Blaine interrupted him, though he began laughing to break his annoyed expression. “Go bug Mike or something. Tina’s flying into Atlanta next week so I’m sure he’d be glad to speak with someone about his bedroom plans.”

“Alright, alright,” Sam apologized. He grabbed his tee shirt from the bench and pulled it on as Blaine failingly attempted not to ogle his muscular frame at the same time. “Have fun tonight, at least.”

“Thanks,” Blaine said. As Sam ventured off to speak with one of his fellow relievers, Blaine sighed.

It hadn’t been the anticipation of the evening that disrupted him that afternoon; it had been his former teammate, Jesse St. James. He’d led off the second inning with a ground rule double and immediately called over to Blaine, “So, hope that little pasty Kurt character is pleased with your mediocre skills in the bedroom, as they have to reflect what you do as a ballplayer.” It took all the strength Blaine had not to drop his glove and pummel the fake smile off Jesse’s face right then. Later in the game after a home run, Jesse smirked at Blaine as he trotted around the bases and blew him a kiss. “Give that to loverboy,” he said. From there, Blaine made a critical error and grounded into the game-ending double play, costing Atlanta the game and a chance at sweeping the Yankees.

Since he was meeting Kurt at the theater at 7:30, Blaine was glad he had some time to return to the hotel and freshen up. It turned out Kurt’s roommate was a member of the cast of _West Side Story_ and they were going to take the evening performance in before Blaine met her. He was fine with that, as he remembered how outstanding the show had been just four weeks prior. When he entered his room, he went right to work on transforming his hair from the everyday mop of curls he put up with to something more fancy, straightened and upswept like a ‘50s star. He kept his outfit for the evening simple: dark jeans, a white button-down, navy tie, and his favorite, comfortable dark green cardigan in case the air conditioning inside was too low.

It was 6:45 by the time Blaine finished his preparations, and he realized if he just sat down and waited twenty minutes before heading down to catch a cab he would be absolutely restless. Instead, he grabbed his belongings and walked out the door. The elevator was full of other players heading out for the evening, which made Blaine grateful he didn’t have to share with anyone tempted to recognize him. When it reached the lobby, he stepped out, put on a pair of sunglasses to fight off the early summer rays, and headed for the taxi stand.

Much to his surprise Kurt was waiting outside the Winter Garden Theatre when Blaine arrived. “Hey,” Blaine said as he swept in and hugged Kurt, kissing his temple. “I missed you.”

Kurt couldn’t help but giggle into the crook of Blaine’s neck. “It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours,” he replied before straightening up and pulling a bouquet of six bright sunflowers from behind his back. “I know it’s not much, but I wanted to give you something.”

“Kurt, they’re beautiful, thank you.” Blaine took the gold and wheat flowers and proceeded to kiss Kurt again, this time full on the lips. “You really didn’t have to do that.”

“Well, I just figured a little something to cheer you up after this afternoon...”

Blaine waved his concern off. “Don’t worry about me like that. There are going to be days when I have bad games; you don’t have to send me flowers after each one.”

“Can I send them to you just because?” Kurt inquired.

“I guess,” Blaine jokingly huffed. “Do you want to head in and get our seats?”

“Sure.” Kurt led him through the doors and into the lobby. He stopped to speak with the older lady manning the ticket booth. “Hi, Dorothy,” he greeted her cheerfully, “how are you doing this evening?”

“Oh, Kurt!” She exclaimed when she saw him. “I’m wonderful, how about you?”

“Just fine. I should have two comps for this evening, I believe?”

Dorothy turned to the cardboard box, full of tickets already placed on Will Call. “Ah, yes, here they are. Ms. Berry requested two prime seats for this evening and said they were for you and a guest. This must be him, correct?”

Kurt nodded and blushed. “Yes, this is my, ah...my Blaine.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” Blaine chimed in, earning a warm smile from Dorothy.

“You as well,” she replied. “Kurt is a lovely gentleman and I hope you take good care of him.”

“I certainly plan on it,” he said, draping an arm across Kurt’s broad shoulders.

Dorothy picked a small white envelope out of the stack and slid it through the window slot towards Kurt. “Here you go, dear. Front row of the mezzanine. Gene will escort you once you’re up there, of course. Enjoy the show, boys!”

The smile on Kurt’s face grew. “Thank you so much, Dorothy,” he said. Tickets in hand, he took Blaine’s free hand in his other and led him to the stairs that took them to the mezzanine. When they reached the top they were met by a stout, older gentleman that Blaine assumed was Gene. He seemed to recognize Blaine and tightened his posture as Kurt handed him the tickets. Gene led them to the front row center and tipped his hat in acknowledgement of their gratefulness for his help.

Once they were seated, Blaine spoke. “So, when exactly were you planning on telling me Rachel Berry is your roommate?”

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” Kurt sighed. “Damn you, Dorothy.”

“Oh, I’m surprised,” Blaine added. “You live with the newest Tony winner for best actress, someone whose performance I already admired last month when I was here. Wait - that party you said you went to on Sunday to watch the awards...”

“What about the party?” Blaine stared at him for a few moments, causing Kurt to finally crack. “Yes, I was actually there at the Tonys. Rachel invited me as her date before we knew about you. Are you jealous?”

Blaine shook his head with a grin. “Not particularly. Now, if you had accompanied Andrew Rannells, then we would have a problem.”

They chatted all the way up until the house lights dimmed. One thing that stood out to Blaine over the month getting to know Kurt was exactly how passionate he was about the things and people he loved. When he started discussing how he ended up with his job at Vogue after Blaine asked, he gave off an exuberant vibe that was nearly impossible to not catch. Kurt talked about how Isabelle basically gave him an internship straight off the plane from Ohio, how she gave him two weeks to gather himself after his stepbrother was killed in combat, and how Kurt put her wedding together in less than six weeks. Blaine, rather than discuss the team in public and draw potential attention towards them, focused his storytelling on his childhood, growing up with a distant, stardom-bound older brother he only saw nowadays during road trips to visit one of the teams in Los Angeles.

"I think Cooper is jealous I was the one to get my name out there first," he joked.

"I'm sure he's proud of his baby brother, anyway," Kurt replied. "How did he, um, take the news?"

"He apologized about it, even though I said a dozen times that it wasn't his fault. He’s a good guy; it was just the age difference that got in the way of us having a good relationship when we were younger.”

“I understand. When our parents began their courtship, Finn and I had several issues that needed resolved.”

“And were they?” Blaine asked.

Kurt nodded. “Absolutely. He became one of my best friends before...well.” Before Blaine could respond everything in the theater darkened. He made a mental note to pick a different subject to discuss over intermission.

The performance, in Blaine’s opinion, was even stronger the second time around. Rachel, outstanding before, shined even brighter as she added even more nuanced layers to Maria. And it showed; every so often Blaine would glimpse over at Kurt, who sat with a starstruck look on his face.

Once the curtain call ended and the cast departed the stage, the two made their way down to the lobby. Rather than heading out, however, Kurt pulled Blaine through the throngs of people exiting the orchestra seating, down the aisles of cushioned chairs, and to a side stage door where a security guard nodded and allowed them access to backstage. “Kurt, what are you doing?” Blaine asked.

“What, you think Rachel was going to wait another hour to meet you?” Kurt stopped in front of a cream-colored door halfway down the corridor and rapped on it a few times. It opened to reveal an exhausted looking Rachel, now dressed in a fluffy yellow robe. “There’s the woman who brought the house down,” he said before enveloping her in his arms.

“Oh, Kurt, thanks for being here tonight,” Rachel said, squeezing him tightly to her torso. “I can always sense your presence in the audience. It helps me make sure I’m on my A game.” She pulled back and looked behind him at Blaine. “Or it could be the admiration of someone I’m going to get to know extremely well in the coming years.”

Blaine chuckled and held out a hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Rachel.”

She tisked and shook her head. “No, no, this is not how you introduce yourself to your soulmate’s right-hand woman,” and she pulled him into a hug that felt just as warm and tight as the one she greeted Kurt with. “Blaine, it’s so, _so_ wonderful to finally have you in Kurt’s life. He’s been on cloud nine for the last month thanks to you.”

“The feeling seems to be mutual,” Blaine replied. “And congratulations on you Tony, by the way. You proved out there why you deserved it.”

Rachel beamed. “It was only a matter of time before the voters couldn’t help but reward my dedication.”

“Thanks, now you’re also meeting Rachel Berry’s ego,” Kurt whispered loudly to him.

Rachel seemed to be used to Kurt’s goading and she plainly rolled her eyes. “Forgive him, he still holds a grudge against me for things that happened six years ago.”

“It’s not a problem,” Blaine said. “So is your soulmate here? Or at home?”

Rachel’s face fell and Kurt waved violently to tell him to stop. “He, um, he’s elsewhere,” she said quietly, like she was trying to keep from bursting into tears.

“Oh. I’m sorry, Rachel, I didn’t know.”

“It’s fine. I’ve had plenty of time to get used to life without him, though I always wonder what our wedding would have been like or which one of us our children took after. Probably him.”

It was then that Blaine caught a faint glimpse of _-dson_ at the end of her right wrist and he put two and two together, that her soulmate also happened to be Kurt’s late stepbrother. He quickly changed the subject. “So, are you hungry? You could come to dinner with Kurt and me.”

“No, thank you, I’d rather not impose on you two while you’re still becoming acquainted.” Rachel padded to one side of the room, took a seat in front of the brightly lit vanity that took up half the wall, picked up a tube of moisturizer, and squirted some of the creamy substance onto her fingers to rub into her face. “Kurt says you’ll be in town a few more times before your season’s over. Hopefully one of them will be on a Monday when we’re dark so we can get together?”

Blaine bit his lip in remorse. “I believe one of the series I am here on a Monday, but we play that evening, sorry. I’ll be up here several times throughout the offseason to visit Kurt, though. We’ll make plans then, okay?”

“Okay,” Rachel confirmed. “Kurt, do you mind if I speak to Blaine for a moment?”

“No, that’s fine.” Kurt took the bouquet he’d given Blaine earlier and retreated towards the door. “Be gentle, Rach. I don’t want you to scare Blaine into blocking my number.”

“Come on, now, would I really do that to him?”

“Yes.” With a grin and a wink, Kurt stepped out to give Blaine and Rachel the privacy she requested.

Blaine made his way closer to Rachel. “I was here at the show four weeks ago as well.”

“I didn’t know that,” Rachel said.

“Yeah, I figured as much since I wasn’t aware of the identity of Kurt’s roommate until we arrived this evening. But what I was going to say is I even thought then that you were in a league of your own compared to other actors I’ve seen.”

“Do you to take in many musicals?”

“I try to catch one every trip up here.” Blaine watched as Rachel brushed her hair out. “I think if baseball didn’t work out for me, I would have tried my hand at the stage. My mom is an acting coach, and my older brother took off for the wonders of Hollywood as soon as he could. I actually did some theater when I was younger, up until winter became time to prepare for baseball season.”

She made eye contact with him in the reflection of the mirror. “I think I can see that. You have an old era appeal about you. Maybe in another lifetime you would have been my Tony.”

“I’m not sure I ever would have been that good to star opposite you,” he replied blushing.

Rachel turned around on her stool. “Blaine, I’m not going to threaten you or anything like Kurt’s dad would. Just by the horrifying way you were outed, I know you’re genuine. You didn’t use your name to reach out to him, and I greatly appreciate that.

“However, do know that he is my best friend. We’ve been there for each other since we were sixteen years old. I know once you two get deeper into your relationship things will change and I’ll probably feel slighted. Don’t let him forget me, Blaine. He...he did so much to help me out after Finn passed away and I don’t know if I could get through things without him.”

Blaine came forward and took Rachel’s left hand in his right while wiping a lone tear from her cheek. “I would never allow him to do that, Rachel. In fact, he may turn to you for support more than you know. Between spring training, the regular season, and playoffs, I get at most four and a half months off work. Like I said before, I’ll try to come visit as often as possible but come February I head to Florida and he’ll be lonely, maybe even lonelier than he was before he met me.”

“Is it that bad?” Rachel asked through a sniffle.

“It can be. I can introduce him to my best friend on the team’s girlfriend. She’ll have plenty of advice to get him through the separation.”

“You really are a good man, Blaine Anderson.”

“And you are a wonderful woman, Rachel Berry,” Blaine replied. He pulled Rachel up and hugged her, softly kissing her temple. “You really wouldn’t be imposing on us if you came along to dinner.”

“Has Kurt mentioned to you that I’m a vegan?” she asked.

“No, he hasn’t. I don’t mind it, though. I like to eat healthy as much as I can.”

Rachel chuckled. “That’s fine. You two should have a night to enjoy yourselves. And like you said, we’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other after the season ends.”

Blaine and Rachel walked to the door and opened it. Kurt was seated on the floor across from them speaking with the actor who played Bernardo. “Ryan, leave Kurt alone. He’s still terrified from the first time you met him and tried to get him to give you everything out of the Vogue vault.”

“Spoilsport,” Ryan muttered. “See you tomorrow, Rachel,” he said as he stood and walked away, disappearing behind another door that looked similar to the one leading to Rachel’s dressing room.

Kurt stood up as well. “I see you survived her,” he said to Blaine.

Blaine grinned and pulled Rachel closer to him. “She’s harmless, Kurt.”

“And you had your doubts about me,” Rachel smirked. “Now you two get your butts out of here, I don’t want to take any more time away from your date than I already have.”

“Alright,” Kurt said. “I’ll probably be out late so don’t worry.”

“Sweetie, I would only worry if you didn’t return after Blaine leaves New York tomorrow night.”

“You’re horrible, why do I put up with you?”

“My charming demeanor?”

“Okay, kids,” Blaine said to break them apart. “We should get going. Rachel, it’s been a pleasure meeting you.”

“Likewise.” She stepped in and hugged Blaine one last time before embracing Kurt. “You two have fun!”

“Bye, Rachel,” Kurt called out as them made their way back towards the main house. He turned to Blaine. “She was alright?”

“More than. She and I will definitely get along well.” They reached the lobby where Blaine held the door open for Kurt, who returned the favor on the outer doors to the street. Taking each other’s hands, they walked along Broadway and into a bustling Manhattan Saturday night.


	5. Chapter 5

Has Blaine Anderson Met His Double Play Partner?  
By Angie Ketteler, pagesix.com

Shock waves rolled across the nation early in May when Atlanta Braves second baseman Blaine Anderson was filmed during an interview with his soulmate marking out in the open, revealing a male’s name. He subsequently came out of the closet and expressed that he had yet to meet this mystery man known as Kurt Hummel. It seems the news spread quickly, though, as Blaine was photographed leaving the Winter Garden Theatre Saturday evening with a date, looking quite lovestruck if the closeness of their bodies and flowers in Blaine’s hand say anything.

Could this have been Kurt Hummel? All signs point to yes. Our steadfast sleuths were on the case and discovered a Kurt Hummel based in New York City. He works for our favorite fashion goddess, Isabelle Wright, at Vogue, and is besties with Rachel Berry, Tony Award-winning starlet of the revival of _West Side Story_ which, as it so happens, plays at the Winter Garden Theatre.

Given that the nature of Blaine’s job brings him to New York several times a year, it’s no wonder if they’ve now met that they’re already canoodling. Hopefully Kurt isn’t devoted to the Mets or Yankees and can show his allegiance to Blaine. They already make an adorable couple and we here at Page Six hope we see many appearance by the two in the coming months and years.

And hey, if it isn’t Kurt? Hopefully Blaine is still enjoying himself.

* * *

Coming to Cleveland for the All-Star Game was a blessing for Blaine. Thanks to the previous two months he slipped well out of a starting position as the fans spoke out against him. Fortunately, his fellow players still saw Blaine for his talent rather than his sexuality and he was overwhelmingly chosen as a reserve player. Add to that the fact that his parents would proudly be in the stands cheering him on Tuesday evening and he was satisfied for the most part.

He tried as much as he could to persuade Kurt to fly in for the game, but Isabelle seemed unable to pull strings to allow him a few days off. She did promise to give Kurt a week later on in the summer to make the trek to see Blaine play outside of New York. They were still debating whether coming to Atlanta was feasible or if it would be easier to meet on the road. Blaine still felt a bit of animosity from the hometown fans during at-bats or turning plays, and he wasn’t keen on subjecting Kurt to that kind reaction. But they still had a few weeks to make a decision on when they would next see each other.

The festivities surrounding the game gave Blaine a chance to relax and take in the undeniable talent that sixty-five of his fellow players had. That evening was the Home Run Derby, a grand exhibition of power meant to wow the fans. The following afternoon before the game included a parade through the streets of Cleveland leading them to Progressive Field to prepare for the main event. Before all that took place, however, came the interviews and press conferences. And Blaine was sure many of the reporters would be focused strictly on him.

They grouped the interviews together by division. Blaine and his fellow Braves’ representatives, including Mike, who grabbed a starting outfield position in the fan vote, and Sam, were thrust among the likes of Marlins, Mets, Nationals, and Phillies. While normally they were foes, today everyone was on the same page in making sure they defeated the American League.

“Jacob,” a reporter addressed Miami’s lone representative, “how does it feel to be here on such a tremendous stage?”

Jacob Ben Israel, who was not among Blaine’s favorite players, beamed. “It’s everything I ever dreamed of. I always pictured making the show and getting a chance to prove to my many admiring fans why they chose me as their favorite.” He looked towards the opposite end of the table where Blaine was seated. “I don’t need to create a controversy when I’m in a slump to get my name out there; they’re always on my side.”

To his right, Blaine heard Noah Puckerman whisper to Ryder Lynn, “Next time we face him, bean his loud ass.” Blaine stifled a giggle, earning a glare from Noah.

“And what do you mean by controversy?” the reporter continued.

“Well, I’m not going out there and flaunting my sexuality for everyone to see. That’s my own business and nobody else’s. Let them admire my talent rather than what I do with my private parts.”

Noah leaned across the table. “Hey, Evans, you in on this too?” he asked Sam. “I’m surprised Anderson’s not over there pummeling him to pulp right now.”

Mike hissed for him to be quiet. “They’re going to hear you. Also, Blaine has class, unlike Jacob.”

The conference moved on to the Mets’ representative, a devoutly religious first baseman name Joe Hart. He was a free spirit who seemed to play by God’s definitions, but when indirectly asked how he felt about the potential of other homosexual players in the league his answer stunned Blaine.

“I refuse to judge anyone based on who they love, man, woman, whatever,” he said. “In God’s eyes, love is love, and at the end of the day it’s what gets us through. I say, to Blaine and anyone else in the league who is struggling with the option to reveal their true selves, you are unbelievably strong. Don’t let them get you down.”

The words struck Blaine hard. He hadn’t had a chance to speak with many other players after what happened, and in fact barely remembered saying more than ten words to Joe over his three years in the majors. He was never really religious growing up and often skipped out on church as he grew older. With many of the Southern Baptist churches throughout Georgia still threatening to take action against the Braves and their stance on Blaine, he’d begun to think of religion as a bit of a farce, something people bought into without thinking about consequence. He knew he needed to thank Joe for his words after the press conference ended.

He apparently daydreamed through the questions offered to Washington’s players and was interrupted when a bespectacled, wheelchair-bound man caught his attention. “Blaine, obviously the story of the year has been on your marking. Do you feel it’s affected your gameplay at all?”

Blaine took a second to inhale and gather himself before he replied. “It has. I...you know, when you’re gay, everything become so much more difficult. You have to worry about everyone’s reactions when they ask who your soulmate is because they expect a name belonging to the opposite gender. You also have to worry about people discovering the truth before you’re ready to reveal it to them, as happened to me. Then comes the impact; will they still love you? Will they still be there for you?

“I’ve heard almost every reaction from fans over the past two months, from sympathy for what happened to being screamed at that I’m going to burn in hell.” Blaine looked over at Joe and smiled. “It’s been a trying time, full of ups and downs, but I really feel I’m back on track now thanks to the kind words of those who know I’m still the same person I was at the start of the season.”

“And what about the rumors that you have met and are currently courting your soulmate, Kurt Hummel?”

Blaine couldn’t hold back the giddiness at the mention of Kurt’s name. “Yes, we have met since this happened. He’s not a baseball fan, so hearing his name all over the media is what made him take notice. And we are currently taking the time to get to know each other; he lives hours away from Atlanta, so it’s long distance and a lot of phone calls back and forth. But for where we are right now, I couldn’t be happier.”

“Thank you, Blaine,” the reporter acknowledged as he moved on. “Mr. Evans, you have twenty-six saves coming into this All-Star break, in your first season in the majors. How do you feel knowing you could win Atlanta’s second Rookie of the Year award in three seasons?”

Knowing he needed to lighten the mood after Blaine’s portion, Sam broke into one of his many impressions. “Today,” he began, taking on an iconic legend of the field, “I consider myself the luckiest man in this room.” He then spoke normally. “Blaine’s my bro, and to share an honor like this with him, and with that dude over there-” Sam pointed across the table to Ryder, “is insane. I never imagined not being a starter, and I never dreamt I’d be in consideration for the award. But here I am, sitting in front of you talking about it.”

Mike answered questions about the chemistry of the team and how he felt about their chances in the playoffs (“I don’t want to make assumptions this early, but I believe you’ll see us well into October”) and the reporter moved on to the Phillies. “Noah, you’re once again leading the league in batting and OPS. Are you concerned about your recent knee injury hampering your outstanding year?”

“No way, dude,” Noah scoffed. “I’m a hundred percent again and doing my thing. These boys on my left may think they’re getting to the World Series, but that train goes through the City of Brotherly Love.”

“You’re known as being one of the most talkative players in the game. Since the Phillies and Braves are only a game and a half apart and you get to see them so much, care to say something about each of the Braves’ players here?”

“Of course. Duval has a sick swing and I envy him for it. Evans, haven’t faced you yet but it scares me to think about. That curveball is the best. Chang, I’m pretty sure you could even beat Usain Bolt in a race, that’s how fast you are. And Anderson...” Noah reached in and clapped Blaine’s shoulder, “he’s the brightest, most energetic player I’ve seen and he deserves everything good out of this life. Anyone who decides to hate on him just because of the name on his wrist is fucking pathetic and needs to look at their own life before judging something beyond his control.”

Blaine was floored by the way Noah stuck up for him. “Wow, thank you,” he said as his eyes prickled with tears.

“I mean it, dude. They come after you, they deal with me. Hell, they’re lucky I don’t play for Atlanta.”

Silencing the two of them, the reporter moved on to the next player and then Ryder, asking similar questions to the ones Sam received. When everyone had spoken, he added one final question. “Does anyone else have anything they would like to add?”

“I do,” Ryder said. He brushed his dark bangs out of his eyes and turned to his left, looking past Noah. “Blaine, I want to apologize. In high school I probably would have been one of those players who would have refused to play on the same field after you came out. Then my junior year my best friend admitted that he - well, she, is transgender. It confused and irritated me at first and led to a huge fight between us. Then I realized that, whether Wade or Unique, she still meant the world to me.

“Unique has always taught me how important it is to be yourself despite what others have to say. After she came out she moved from baseball to softball and, well, she still kicks everyone’s ass. And I’m hoping, with your support, it would be alright to start an organization to help student athletes who identify as LGBT. She wants to get her message out there, and I think with someone like you behind the group it’ll drive everything home.”

“Of course, yeah,” Blaine replied. “I sort of had something similar in mind once my career ended, but it’s just as needed now.” 

Ryder beamed, and Blaine sat in awe. Two of his team’s biggest rivals went out of their way to voice their support for him. It was more than he ever bargained for and it made him really want the best for them, even if they’re Phillies.

After the interview concluded, everyone waited around the clubhouse while the remaining divisions went in and then got to enjoy a buffet dinner. This was followed by the Home Run Derby, sitting on the field and watching the longballs fly. Much to Blaine’s chagrin, Jesse St. James won the contest and the shit-eating grin refused to leave his face the rest of the evening.

Blaine decided against hitting the town with some of the other players and headed back to the hotel with Mike. They were greeted in the lobby by a very energetic Tina, who’d been able to fly in for the game and a few days with Mike.

“It’s about time, boys,” she huffed. “There’s a pretty nice surprise waiting for someone.”

Mike immediately yanked Tina towards him. “Not down here, sweetheart,” he whispered, “are you insane.”

The smile on Tina’s face turned devilish. “I wasn’t talking about one for you, Michael. I meant for Blaine.”

“Wait, why would there be a surprise for me?” Blaine inquired, yawning immediately after. “I just want to go to bed.”

“Well, I ran into him coming back from dinner and he was so flustered, asking if I knew what room you were in. Then I settled him down and we got to talking and, oh, Blaine, you are one lucky boy to have him.”

“Him?” Blaine’s exhausted brain sprang to life, coming up with the only ‘him’ he needed. “Kurt’s here?” he asked loudly enough to earn a glare from the concierge.

“Kurt’s here,” Tina confirmed before Blaine sprinted to the elevators. One couldn’t arrive fast enough and he nearly trampled over an older couple walking off once the doors opened. “Sorry,” he called out to them. Mike and Tina joined him as Blaine repeatedly pressed the 16 button.

“Whoa, settle down there, kid,” Mike said. “You act like this is the best news you’ve ever received.”

“It is!” Blaine hopped up and down on the balls of his feet to get his newfound energy out before the elevator jerked to a stop. He slid out the doors and rushed towards his room. In front of the door sat a dozing Kurt. “Kurt!” he called out, careful not to wake other patrons on the floor.

Kurt’s eyes fluttered open and landed on Blaine, bringing a wide grin to his face. “Hey, you,” he said, standing up to hug Blaine. “Surprised to see me?”

“Very.” Blaine squeezed him back and pecked his lips, momentarily losing himself in their softness. “How’d you pull this off? You said you couldn’t get the time off.”

“And not surprise you?” Kurt asked cheekily. “We had a huge morning meeting that I was couldn’t get out of, but Isabelle approved Tuesday and Wednesday automatically, and all I wanted to do was see that look on your face that I got when we met.”

“Kurt, seriously, you are something else.” Blaine kissed him again, more tenderly and intimately than the first, only stopping when he heard Mike clear his throat. “Yes?”

Mike amusedly shook his head. “I guess I don’t really have to tell you two to get a room, but...”

Blaine slapped his shoulder. “Classy. Kurt, as I’m sure you figured out, this is the idiot I play with better known as Mike Chang.”

Kurt shook Mike’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. Blaine said you’ve been there for him all along.”

“You too,” Mike replied. “Yeah, he needed a friend and I reached out, and since then I haven’t been able to shake him off. He’s like an annoying, yappy puppy if you don’t give him attention often enough.”

Chuckling, Kurt pulled Blaine closer to him. “So I’ve noticed.”

“Anyway,” Blaine interrupted, hoping to get away, “I think I should let Kurt in so he can unpack. How about we meet you two for breakfast? Sam, too, but don’t tell him Kurt’s here.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Mike said, pulling Tina down the hall towards his room. “Ten sound good since we have to be ready to go at 12:30?”

“Awesome.”

“Great. Have fun, guys!”

“Nice to meet you, Kurt!” Tina added.

“You too,” Kurt said. Blaine dug his keycard out to open the door and rolled Kurt’s suitcase in. Kurt followed and made his way to the bed.

“Are you tired?” Blaine asked as he closed the door and turned the deadbolt.

Kurt shrugged. “Not particularly. You?”

“Nah.” Blaine padded over and sat next to Kurt. “So now what do we do?”

“Hmm. I guess we could see if there’s anything on television?”

“I doubt it. Do you have like, a deck of cards with you? We could play war.”

“I didn’t think to pack any. Wait.” Kurt stood up and went to where Blaine deposited his luggage. He rummaged through one of the pockets and pulled out a small travel bag. “I may have some things in here that we could use to stay occupied.”

Blaine raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”

“Mmhmm,” Kurt hummed as he made his way back to sit on the soft mattress. “I mean, if you’re interested. I know we haven’t had a chance to do much other than kissing yet...”

“True.” Blaine kissed his forehead. “And if we’re that bored...”

“Then why not?” Kurt dropped the bag behind him and straddled across Blaine’s lap, biting on Blaine’s lower lip to allow him to slip into his mouth. Blaine moaned at the intrusion before settling in allowing Kurt to take control.

Blaine felt a hand slip up the hem of his shirt and settle on the small of his back. The heat radiating from Kurt’s fingertips ignited his nerves as he arched inward and jutted into Kurt’s cock, already straining against the zipper. He brought his hands up to undo the knot of Kurt’s silk bow tie, dropping it somewhere off the foot of the bed. “You wear too many layers,” he groaned as he began pawing at the slim waistcoat.

“Sorry, force of habit,” Kurt replied, inching his way further up Blaine’s spine and dragging his shirt up. “Fashion is a lifestyle, you know.”

“Well, as incredible as your fashion sense is it’s bothering me at the moment.” Blaine finally popped the last button and started on Kurt’s top. The smaller buttons proved more to be more difficult, and Blaine fumbled his way down to the bottom. As the last one released, he pushed the shirt and vest off in one move. He then took control and flipped Kurt onto the bed so he could undo his pants.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he said breathily as he looked over Kurt’s torso; strong, solid, yet somehow almost delicate in how his pale skin shined over his broad muscles. He slid the trousers and boxers down Kurt’s legs, taking in his hard, leaking cock. “Can I taste you?”

Kurt nodded quickly. “Please.” Blaine sank down and lapped up the precome before sliding his mouth over the head entirely. He grabbed onto the base of the shaft and worked his way up and down, licking and sucking back and forth. “Fuck, Blaine, need you now,” he heard Kurt moan. “No more time.”

Blaine popped off him with a smack of his lips. “What do you want me to do?”

“I want you inside me.”

He nodded, quickly throwing off his shirt and jeans and discarding his shoes, nearly stumbling as he heard Kurt gasp at the sight of his own naked body. He untied Kurt’s shoes to slip them off, pulled off his socks, and pulled his trousers the rest of the way down. Blaine reached for the pouch lying next to Kurt and unzipped it, pulling out a small bottle and a foil packet. He flipped the top of the lube open and poured a generous amount over his fingers. When they discussed their past sexual encounters, Kurt explained that he’d only been with one other person intimately and still felt awkward even discussing sex.

Blaine slid a finger down towards his opening and looked up into his eyes. “I promise I’m going to take care of you, okay? If you feel I’m going too fast or hurting you...”

“You won’t,” Kurt rushed out. “You’re already making me feel more comfortable than Dustin did.”

“Okay.” Blaine leaned in to kiss him again as he worked the finger inside. Kurt gasped, arching up in what Blaine hoped was pleasure rather than pain. “You okay, baby?” he asked, the term of endearment slipping out.

Kurt nodded. “S’cold.”

“Sorry about that,” Blaine chuckled. He pulled out and rubbed his fingers together to warm the liquid up before reinserting it. He flexed it around for a few moments before adding a second finger. “Still fine?”

“Fine.”

Blaine twisted around inside Kurt to stretch him some more. “Let me know if you’re ready for another one.” Kurt confirmed he was before he could complete the sentence, so he pushed a third finger in, causing Kurt to cry out. “Sorry,” Blaine apologized.

“No, don’t apologize. It’s-it’s good.” Kurt reached for Blaine’s free hand that was bracing his shoulder, gripping around his marking. “Blaine?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m ready.”

“Are you sure? Because you’re probably not stretched enough.”

“I don’t care,” Kurt huffed, “I want to feel you now.”

“Okay.” Blaine pulled his hand out and picked up the condom, unwrapping it and rolling it on. He lubed his cock up and guided Kurt’s legs around his hips while he lined up against his entrance. Taking a deep breath, Blaine pushed in.

“Fuck,” Kurt moaned at the movement.

Blaine paused. “Did I hurt you, baby?”

“No, it feels good.”

“You sure?” Kurt nodded and Blaine slowly pulled back and thrust back in, setting up a rhythm. Kurt felt hot, tight, _perfect_ around him, and he knew he wasn’t going to make it long at all. He reached for Kurt’s cock and stroked him until he began squirming underneath, preparing to unload.

“You’re okay, I have you,” Blaine whispered in his ear as he worked Kurt through his orgasm, streaks of come shooting up his arm and chest. He moved his arm up and laced his fingers with Kurt, their markings flush against each other, while his other hand cradled the back of Kurt’s head.

Soon enough, too soon for Blaine’s liking, he felt the heat bubbling up inside and his movements became more jerky. One final push in sent him over the edge as he screamed, unwilling to care about other players occupying nearby rooms. He peeled the condom off, tied it, and knelt on the edge of the mattress to toss it into the wastebasket underneath the nightstand.

“Well that was fun,” he joked as he turned back to Kurt, lying on his side facing him.

Kurt stared right into him, blue and gray and green penetrating deep into Blaine. “I love you,” he said softly.

It took everything inside of Blaine not to collapse into a heap of tears. “I-really?”

“Yes, really. You’re so strong, so balanced. I don’t think I could have been in your position of accidentally baring your marking; I would have run away from any questioning and pretended that nothing happen. But you...you took the situation and turned it around. You became a hero to so many people, myself included.”

Kurt swiped at a tear running down his cheek. “When I pictured you, from when your name first appeared on my wrist until I saw that interview, I saw someone like me. Someone who wanted to let his true colors fly but was afraid; someone who lost dream after dream, having to find his way in something else. But I was so pleased to find you and your determination to be the best without compromise. You’ve made the last month and a half absolutely incredible and I’m proud that whatever...fate, a god...decides who becomes soulmates paired us up.”

“But you’re just as strong, Kurt,” Blaine replied, wrapping an arm around his waist. “You took those hardships and overcame them in your own way. Just because you had to take another route to success doesn’t mean you didn’t achieve it. I admire your will to change your course when you’ve been kicked down, as well as your unbelievably generous heart. And most of all, I love how you do stand up for yourself, because you deserve just as much, if not more, than me out of this world.”

“What did I ever do to deserve you?” Kurt asked. He buried his face into the crook of Blaine’s neck and began sobbing.

Blaine planted a kiss on top of his head. He knew he’d been on the verge of those words since their time together in New York and communication after, but the conversation confirmed his feelings in the best way. “I love you, Kurt,” he whispered into his ear.

Kurt looked up through glassy eyes, a wide smile planted on his face. “I love you too, Blaine.” They refused to move the rest of the night, stealing kisses until they both dozed off to sleep in each other’s arms.


	6. Chapter 6

Blaine Anderson  
℅ Atlanta Braves - Turner Field  
755 Hank Aaron Drive  
Atlanta, GA 30315

Dear Blaine,

My name is Taylor Reynolds. I’m fourteen years old and from a small town in Wisconsin called Plainfield. I’ve grown up playing baseball (which is hard when you’re in the middle of nowhere), following baseball, and living baseball. Obviously the Brewers are my favorite team, but something about you stood out to me when you first started out. You showed that you could be great without showing off and overshadowing the team, that they came first. It’s something I’ve always tried to do, which is difficult as a pitcher. Then in May you hit the news for non-baseball reasons and everyone I know, my parents and grandparents especially, began hating you and calling you names. It deeply hurt me because I realized I had much more in common with you than I thought.

I realized I was gay last summer. All my friends became interested in girls and I never was. They never seemed like they could be more than a friend. Then at the pool I saw my best friend, Aaron, in just his swim trunks and was turned on. I was mortified and ran back home to look online to see if anything was wrong with me. What I found were so many places saying I was just as normal as before, but also places saying I would burn in hell. I knew I had a problem.

My marking came last January...his name, apparently, is Kevin Coy. Everyone asked to see it after I got it, but I refused to show them. I started getting bullied because everyone showed off the name of their soulmate, so why didn’t I want them to know who she was? I ended up breaking down and showing my older sister, Alyce, the name. She never judged me...actually she gave me a hug and told me how much she loved me. Alyce said no matter what she would always support me even if nobody else did. I am scared, though, that everyone will turn on me once they find out.

You’ve become my hero in a way. I’d been thinking there was no way I could make it to the majors being gay, but you did. I hope one day I can continue on in your legacy of showing baseball fans across America that sexuality has nothing to do with the game. Thank you so much. I wish you and Kurt the best of luck.

Sincerely,  
Taylor Reynolds

 

_Taylor Reynolds_  
13092 Southwoods Circle  
Plainfield, WI 54966 

_Dear Taylor,_

_When I sat down to read your letter, I didn’t expect it to be so emotional. It took me back a decade to when I had the same troubling feelings, that being gay was going to prevent me from getting anywhere and I would be attacked for it. The midwest is a terrible place to grow up as an homosexual youth, even if I had a more prevalent city such as Columbus twenty miles away._

_I wasn’t much younger than you when I came to terms with my sexuality. The first person I told ended up being my brother, Cooper, who was just as supportive as Alyce seems to be. Nobody else knew until Kurt’s name appeared on my wrist. There were plenty of sneers and a bit of bullying by other students, but I just ignored them and kept on training to make the varsity baseball team. Even my parents were disappointed to see the name, though they’ve since come around. They realized they would always love me unconditionally and have embraced it as a fact of life, that there will always be gays around and nothing should be shown to them except the love you already have._

_I knew, however, that in order to get to the top I would have to, essentially, crawl back into the closet. It took until my year in AAA to tell anyone involved with the Braves I was gay, but they didn’t care. It was the fan reaction I was more scared about, and I was proven right when it happened. I still get a bit of hate mail from some of the anti-gay groups around the south. But you know what? They can’t touch me, or any of us._

_I hope you don’t mind but I copied your letter and emailed it to Kurt. He received an even greater proportion of bullying after he came out and he’s now making his way to becoming the youngest senior editor at Vogue. We both thank you for your well-wishes, and I can tell you we are extremely happy now that we know each other. This has been the best outcome of the entire debacle._

_I really do appreciate your letter and your openness, Taylor. I have enclosed an autographed picture, but I want to add something else: next season, when the Braves come to Milwaukee, I would love to meet you and Alyce. Once the schedule is sorted and tickets go on sale, I’ll send them to you along with an All-Access pass to Miller Park._

_One last thing: you don’t have to reveal the name on your wrist to anyone, but when you do? It’s going to take a lot of courage. They may stick with you or they may hate you, but you’re still going to show them because you wanted them to know. I guarantee that the day you meet Kevin will be the best day of your life (speaking from experience, the day I met Kurt definitely was!) and your true friends and family will be so grateful when they hear the news._

_Take care,  
Blaine Anderson_

* * *

Blaine Anderson Caught Smooching on Rodeo Drive  
By Linda Morris, TMZ Chief Editor

The baseball world was sent into a tizzy this past spring when it was revealed that the Atlanta Braves’ all-star second baseman, Blaine Anderson, was gay. It seems the turmoil of the last few months is behind him, however, as he took his off-day in town before a crucial late-August series against the Dodgers to hit up several shops on Rodeo Drive with a few good men on his side.

We know one of the 23-year-old’s companions was teammate Sam Evans, and judging by the familiar smile on another his brother tagged along. But no, Blaine only seemed to have eyes for his boy, 25-year-old Vogue columnist Kurt Hummel. Blaine and Kurt looked to be inseparable the entire time and we were lucky to catch a very intimate moment between the two.

Click here for more of Blaine Anderson, Kurt Hummel, and Sam Evans.

* * *

Kurt wouldn’t stop bouncing his knee up and down. “Baby, are you going to settle down soon?” Blaine inquired.

“I can’t, Blaine, today has been so exciting. First your brother, and now I’m about to meet Ellen DeGeneres!”

“Yes, if you don’t demolish her green room.” Blaine glanced in the mirror and straightened his bow tie. “You know, people would think you’re the famous one as hyper as you are.”

Kurt skipped over to stand behind him and reached in to adjust the tie again. “So maybe I’ve dreamt of this moment since I was eleven,” he said. “It’s a dream come true for me, in a lot of ways.”

Blaine turned around to face him. “Like what?”

“Well, she’s obviously a pioneer for gay rights. I always wanted to come on, fresh off my Tony win and explain to the young, confused kids out there that it gets better.”

“And we’re going to do just that,” Blaine said, punctuating his sentence with a kiss. “You don’t need accolade to get that message across; you’re proof of that. All you need is to be passionate.”

Kurt nodded. “This is why I love you,” he sighed. “You can turn my insanity into something practical.”

The stage manager knocked on the door and cracked it open. “Gentlemen, two minutes.”

“Alright,” Blaine acknowledged. He swept a stray hair off the shoulder of Kurt’s maroon blazer and held out a hand. “You ready for this?”

“So ready.” Kurt took his hand and they followed the stage manager through the wings to just off the stage. They listened to the audience enjoy the break music before it died down and someone called a ten second warning. After a few moments, they broke into applause as Ellen’s commercial music brought her back from break.

“Our next guest,” she began, “won Rookie of the Year honors for the Atlanta Braves at the age of twenty-one and has been tearing up baseball fields left and right. This season he’s proving his worth out there while becoming a new face for the gay community. Please welcome Blaine Anderson!”

Kurt whispered in his ear, “I’ll see you out there.” Blaine turned and flashed him a smile as he began dancing his way onto the set, to an older, catchier Katy Perry tune he remembered from high school. He reached the bottom of his steps and made his way to greet Ellen.

“Hi, how are you?” she asked him over the noise.

“Wonderful, yourself?”

“Great.” Ellen led him to the seats and Blaine sat down. When the applause died down she finally spoke. “It’s so nice to get to meet you.”

Blaine nodded. “Same here. I grew up watching you every day after school and now...”

“What, you don’t watch me anymore?” she teased, earning laughs from the audience.

“Well, I don’t get to catch much television anymore. If I’m home it’s on right after I get to the stadium, and my DVR is usually maxed out on space until I can get time to watch anything.”

“I understand. So, this season has been quite interesting for you, hasn’t it?”

“It has been,” Blaine said. He shifted in the chair to make himself comfortable. “We keep going back and forth with the Phillies for first place and the best record in baseball. They have such an outstanding team with incredible guys. It’s such a battle and we’re running out of time, but I do believe we’ll come out on top.”

“Do you think the Braves can win the World Series?” Ellen inquired.

“Absolutely. I play with twenty-four of the most driven, hardworking men around. The team has come so close since the last time they won, and it’s time to give back to Atlanta for all the support they’ve shown us over the years.”

After another round of applause, Ellen moved on. “This season has also been full of controversy, after the nation found out that you’re gay. Did you expect a lot of the hatred thrown your way after your marking was revealed?”

“I did, yeah,” Blaine said. “I knew when the Braves drafted me that my sexuality would become a factor to the fans. I vowed to stay quiet on it until I was ready, hoping the progression we’ve made in, um, in receiving our due rights would be enough that it wouldn’t be an issue when I decided to come out.”

“But you wouldn’t have chosen now, correct?”

“No, I wouldn’t have. I’d always been careful to leave my wrist covered at all times, but my mind was elsewhere between when I took my wristband off and when the reporter in Cincinnati came over to me. It was nobody’s fault but my own that it happened, and had I realized what was going on I would have slid my cuff on immediately as usual.” Ellen smiled sympathetically. It was well-known that her decision to come out was due to someone threatening to out her after seeing Portia’s name written on her wrist. “But now I have a new platform, and over the offseason I’m going to team up with a few players across the league to begin an organization to reach out to teens in sports that identify as gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender, to help give them the strength to show people they can make it in spite of who they love.”

“I understand that you didn’t know your soulmate when this happened?” Ellen asked.

Blaine shook his head. “Not at the time, no. That’s probably the biggest blessing of this all is that we met two and a half weeks later after a game.”

“And are things good between you?”

He felt his face redden as he grinned. “They’re amazing. He actually flew out here for our road trip since we haven’t spent all that much time together these few months we’ve gotten to know each other.”

Ellen feigned a look of guilt. “Well, who am I to disrupt two soulmates from their bonding? We should bring him out here.” A loud cheer came from the audience as Blaine nodded. “Please welcome to the stage Kurt Hummel!”

Kurt made his way out gracefully and ran into Ellen’s arms. “Oh, my god, I can’t believe I’m here!” he exclaimed.

He finally sat down, kissing Blaine on the way as they locked hands. Ellen addressed him, “Kurt, you’re quite energetic, aren’t you?”

“Only in the presence of royalty,” he said. “Now if you bring out Princess Catherine, I may cry.”

“There goes my next surprise,” she joked. “Blaine said you two didn’t meet until after his marking was shown. Did you watch any of his games and think to yourself, ‘that’s my soulmate out there that just hit that home run’?”

Kurt replied, “You know, I’m not really into sports. The closest I’d come was playing kicker in one high school football game my sophomore year. I woke up one morning to my roommate exclaiming that my name was all over the news, checked it out, and that was the first time I knew who exactly Blaine Anderson was.”

“What made you decide to reach out and meet him?”

“How could I not?” Kurt gestured to Blaine, causing him to blush again. “I felt horrible that he was outed this way, but I couldn’t just hide away and not find him. I checked to see when he was coming to New York and decided I had to do it at a game.”

“You live in New York? What do you do there?”

“I’ve worked at Vogue the past six years.”

Ellen smiled. “That sounds like a good gig. My friend Isabelle Wright works there too, have you met her?”

“She’s my boss. My fairy godmother, as I’ve always called her,” Kurt replied.

“So with you in New York and Blaine in Atlanta, is it going to be hard to spend time together even during the offseason?”

Blaine spoke up, “Not really. We’ve already made plans to spend at least one weekend a month together, and it turns out we grew up about two hours from each other in Ohio, so we’ll be able to see each other over the holidays with family, too.”

“Good. It seems you two are already proving your bond to be strong, and I wish you two the best of luck. Ladies and gentlemen, Blaine Anderson and Kurt Hummel. We’ll be right back.”

Blaine and Kurt stood and thanked Ellen for the interview before retreating backstage. “Thank you,” Blaine said as they returned to the green room.”

Kurt looked at him confused. “For what?”

“For being everything I never knew I wanted.”


	7. Chapter 7

Braves Finish Off Phillies, Advance to World Series  
By Jeffrey West @JWest_AJC

Philadelphia, PA

All it took was one swing of the bat. The Braves didn’t want to leave it at that, though.

Mike Chang blasted the fourth pitch of the game into the the stands, sparking the team to an 8-0 clobbering of the Phillies in game 5 of the NLCS and leading them to their first World Series berth since 1999.

“I wanted to get us going quickly,” Chang, who finished the game 3-for-5 with a two-run double added in, said in the middle of the team’s celebration. “We knew how badly we wanted the game, it was time to show them how much.”

With a depleted bullpen thanks to game 4’s 12-inning marathon, starter Wes Montgomery went eight solid innings, scattering five hits and giving lead to closer Sam Evans, the only reliever to not enter the 7-6 victory. They received support from Chang and League Championship Series MVP Nick Duval.

“After last night and this morning, it was a blessing to have to manage a game like this,” manager Will Schuester said. “Nick has been pulling through in the clutch and lifted us exactly when we needed it.”

When addressed about star Blaine Anderson’s status for game one of the World Series, Schuester sounded optimistic. “He’s shown us all season that he’s a fighter and I have no doubt he’ll be starting.” Anderson, who fouled a ball off his foot in the game 2 loss, saw his first action since when he pinch-hit for Montgomery in the top of the 9th, grounding out to shortstop.

The Phillies aren’t going home sore losers, however. Catcher Noah Puckerman was the first to express his congratulations to the Braves, who also took the NL East title from them by a mere two games. “They’re the tightest team I think I’ve ever seen, and I couldn’t be prouder. I’m rooting for them to win it all.”

As for Atlanta’s next opponent, it’s still to be determined. The Yankees and Angels are deadlocked 2-2 in their best-of-seven series with game 5 to be played tonight. Game 1 of the World Series will be in Atlanta on October 24.

* * *

Blaine never felt as terrified as he had all day. This was it; game seven. At home. All or nothing, and every other possible cliche reporters came come up with over the past twenty-four hours. It was time to win and prove to the fans across the south that their expectations for him seven months ago were still valid today.

The most nerve-wracking part wasn’t even preparing for the game, though. Kurt flew in for the final two games in anticipation of the victory and decided, rather than stay at Blaine’s apartment for those games, that he’d room with Mercedes. She finally contacted Sam after the Ellen interview aired, not wanting to lose more time without him, and they’d spent the better part of the past two months getting to know each other. She preferred to take everything slow until the offseason came around and they could spend time in the same city, but Sam still looked just as lovestruck as Blaine felt the first few weeks after he met Kurt.

The section where the players’ soulmates usually sat was moved to a private box to keep any potential issues between Kurt and the more disapproving fans down. Everyone loved it. The room gave Katherine the chance to bring baby Estella along for everyone to coo over. It also meant Chandler could attend his first baseball game as Eli’s soulmate. Eli took in many home games and visited the team several times throughout the year while he recovered from his shoulder surgery. Just before the regular season ended he asked Blaine if they could talk privately about an issue that had been on his mind. He explained that he and Chandler wanted to get married in January, which would lead to them announcing their relationship and Eli’s sexuality to Braves’ fans. Blaine expressed his worries, as he still received a handful of hate mail every week, and he wanted to make sure Eli was one hundred percent ready to come out. He was, though, and this was the first step.

The player introductions had been almost deafening, starting with the jeering directed at one Jesse St. James. He spoke midway through the season on how Georgia was full of rednecks and wannabe thugs and he couldn’t have been happier to have left the Braves. The fans didn’t take to the interview very kindly, and out of the four games of the series contested in Atlanta this was the loudest they spoke out. The volume remained at a high decibel as the Braves were introduced player by player, beginning with Eli and working their way through the reserves and starting lineup. Even when Blaine stepped out of the dugout the cheers outweighed the boos, though not to the levels of the other starters.

The first few innings played mundanely. Wes got out of the first inning easily before reaching trouble in the second, with Jesse scoring on a sacrifice fly. The Yankees’ pitcher, a well-traveled veteran named Hunter Clarington, kept pace by only allowing one walk through the first three innings. Blaine watched him as he warmed up on deck, catching a flaw the delivery of Hunter’s three-seam fastball. The crack of a bat making contact caught his attention as Trent reached first on a single. Blaine tapped the practice donut off his bat and dropped it in the on-deck circle for Nick to pick up.

Blaine settled into the batter’s box and took the first pitch; low to him, but the umpire called it a strike. Hunter set and threw another one. The three-seam. Blaine swung at the pitch, feeling it ricochet off the sweet spot of his bat.

He knew the ball was gone the moment he connected. Fifty thousand fans roared to life as it sailed over the centerfield wall. Blaine rounded the bases and sent a smirk Jesse’s way as he crossed second. The moment he touched home plate Nick slammed into him, congratulating Blaine with a gigantic hug. He finally got away and met with Trent, and they entered the dugout where the rest of the team mobbed Blaine on impact.

“Listen to them, Blaine!” Wes exclaimed as he pulled him in. The crowd was still going crazy. “That’s all for you. Go back out there.”

“You sure?” Blaine asked. Wes nodded emphatically and let go of him. Blaine climbed back up the steps to greet the crowd, causing them to cheer louder than before. Waves of emotions flowed through Blaine as he lifted his helmet off his head and saluted the fans. It was a moment he nearly never expected again, for them to look past what they believed and see his achievements.

As Blaine turned to the third base side he glanced up at the suites. He pointed towards the one he knew everyone was in as a gesture to Kurt. The home run was for him, the rock behind him since that magical evening at Citi Field. Blaine waved to the crowd one final time before descending back down into the dugout.

From that inning on, the Braves played with everything they had. They scored another run later in the inning and Blaine hit a bases-loaded single in the fifth, bringing their lead to 5-1. Wes was dominating on the mound, mowing down several Yankees. By the time the ninth inning came around the entire stadium was buzzing in anticipation of what was to come.

Will called out to Wes before he stepped out for the ninth inning. “Hey, Montgomery. If you feel you need to come out...”

Wes shook him off. “I won’t, Schue. But thanks.” He curved the bill on his cap inwards, grabbed his glove, and followed the team onto the field.

“You sure about this?” Blaine asked him as they jogged to the infield.

“Never more sure,” Wes replied. “I’ve got you right behind me. I’m good.”

The first batter battled Wes’ mentality with several foul balls before finally flying out to Mike. Blaine looked to see if Will or Jim made the move to get someone up in the bullpen; he knew Wes had thrown over a hundred pitches now. Nobody picked up the phone, though. Blaine moved his focus back to the game and watched as the second batter grounded out to third base.

Everyone in the New York dugout looked defeated after that. With one out to go and a four run deficit, a comeback was looking slimmer than ever. The fans knew this as the buzz across the stands grew with each out. The Yankees final chance came in the form of Jesse St. James, someone who most of the Braves knew could cause some damage. Wes shook off two signs before throwing the first pitch. Jesse swung and made contact, sending the ball directly into Blaine’s diving glove.

It took two seconds for Blaine to realize exactly what happened. A tremendous scream enveloped the field from the celebration the fans already started. He opened his glove, catching a flash of white and red before Brett piled on top of him. “Way to end the game, bro!” Blaine barely heard him say.

“Holy shit,” he said, standing up and pulling Brett into a hug as the team came out to crowd around him and celebrate. Every scoreboard across the stadium read WORLD CHAMPIONS as strangers cheered, lovers kissed, and everyone took in the first moments of Atlanta’s newest triumph.

Blaine joined up with Mike and Sam, who raised him up on their shoulders. “Wait, what the hell?” he asked as they lifted him.

“Everyone has to know who the hero is,” Sam called out. “We couldn’t have won this without you.”

“I hate you both.” Blaine waved to the crowd, earning another round of enthusiastic cheering. They set him down as the upper management and owners came out with the championship tees and hats to wear during the postgame. He took the garments offered to him by the assistant general manager. “Thank you,” he said.

“You’re welcome, Blaine,” he replied. He handed another set to Mike and turned back. “By the way, Blaine, congratulations.”

He stopped midway through pulling the tee down onto his body. “Huh?”

“You’re Most Valuable Player,” the general manager said nonchalantly.

“See?” Mike smirked at Blaine’s stunned expression. “C’mon, let’s go get our drink on.”

The clubhouse staff had already prepared for the celebration. Dozens of champagne bottles sat on tables throughout and tarps lined each locker to protect their belongings. Blaine rushed to grab a bottle and popped it, spraying alcohol all over his two best friends; Sam retaliated by dumping an entire bottle on top of Blaine’s head. Other teammates joined them until Will pulled Blaine away so he could give his first interview accepting the MVP.

A stuffy national commentator, the commissioner of Major League Baseball, and several cameramen joined them and set up in front of a corner to hand out the two trophies. Blaine watched as Will accepted the Commissioner’s Trophy.

“We’ve spent the entire season proving - to ourselves, to the rest of the league, to the fans - that we were doing this. So many people didn’t believe, but we did. We bonded, we worked together, and we succeeded the entire way. This group of men here? They’re the best ones I ever could have asked for,” Will paused to pull Blaine into the shot, “especially this one.”

The reporter passed the microphone off to the commissioner. “You’re of course referring to the series’ Most Valuable Player, Blaine Anderson. Blaine, you batted .371 with two home runs and twelve runs batted in. It made you the unanimous choice for Most Valuable Player, as well as the first second baseman to win the award since 1960, so congratulations.”

“Wow, really?” Blaine laughed. “I thought it would have been Wes the way he’s pitched us through the playoffs.”

“Blaine, it’s been quite a season for you, going from a pariah to many fans to the savior. Has it been difficult trying to win them back?”

“You know, all I’ve been trying to prove since May is that I’m still the same player I was my first two years here. Who I love has no bearing on my skills on the field, and I hope tonight proved to Braves Country that I’m still that same kid, that I plan on giving them everything I’ve got, and they should look past the name on my wrist.”

“Is there anyone you want to thank for helping you get here tonight?”

“Oh, of course,” Blaine said. “My parents, my brother, my coaches growing up, every single member of the Braves organization, all the players across baseball and fans who stood up for me. And of course my boyfriend.”

The reporter nodded curtly and turned towards the camera. “Alright, thank you Atlanta Braves’ manager Will Schuester and World Series MVP Blaine Anderson. Back over to you, Scott.”

Blaine rejoined the celebration with everyone that went on for another hour before security asked everyone to wrap it up. He quickly showered and changed clothes, gathered his stuff, and took one last look around the clubhouse.

“What a year, huh?” Mike said from behind him. “Hard to believe we won’t be back here for five months.”

“Yeah, I know. And when we do come back, we have to find a way to top this. Are you still...”

“I am. Now where’s Sam?”

“He had a thank you gift to give to the coaches.” Blaine raised an eyebrow, to which Mike shrugged. “I guess for making him the closer.”

“Then he should also have something for Eli,” Blaine joked.

Sam jumped in, scaring both Blaine and Mike. “I already sent him an engagement gift, actually. Figured he and his man could use a toaster.”

“You’re terrible,” Blaine said. “Now, our fan club is probably still waiting for us.”

Sure enough, as they departed the clubhouse Kurt, Tina, and Mercedes were positioned down the hallway, each carrying a dozen roses to give to their men. “As much as I would like to claim this was my idea,” Kurt began, “everyone on the team received these.”

“Well, we appreciate it nonetheless.” Blaine leaned in to kiss him. “Sorry we kept you guys waiting.”

Mercedes sighed, “It was no big deal. Gave me more time to get to know these two and learn anything interesting about Sam that he won’t tell me. Babe, you were a stripper?”

“A what?” Mike whipped around fast.

“Thanks, Blaine,” Sam mumbled under his breath. “It was only the first winter after rookie ball. I wanted to make some extra money to give to my folks, help buy birthday presents for my little siblings. It’s not needed now, but it was fun.”

“And he refuses to show me any moves,” Blaine said, adding a fake pout.

“That’s because they’re all mine now,” Mercedes said. She wrapped an arm around Sam’s waist. “Aren’t they, babe?”

“Of course they are.”

Tina clapped her hands. “Anyway, we should probably get going. It’s almost 2.”

Mike reached out and stopped her. “Not so fast, Tina. I have one more thing to do before we leave.” She turned around as he dropped to one knee and pulled a small black box out of his jacket. “Tina, we’ve known each other for almost fifteen years now. We shared so many memories together; our first kiss, our marking reveals, being drafted, you making your way through veterinary school. But I want that to be the start for us. Tina Cohen-Chang, will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

“Of course I will!” Tina squeaked out. Mike shakily pulled the diamond ring out of the box and slid it onto her finger before standing up and celebrating with a kiss.

Blaine heard Kurt sniffle next to him. “It’s so beautiful. Now you’re going to have to find a way to top that.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked. “Because one, we’ve only been together five months so there’s no need for engagement talk yet, and two...” Blaine pulled Kurt closer to him, “who said I’ll be the one to propose?”

“You’re on, Mister MVP.”

Sam groaned. “Seriously, guys, get a room already.”

Blaine laughed him off. “I think I’ll pass out when we do,” he said.

“Aww, and here I was all ready to celebrate with you,” Kurt pouted.

“We have the entire offseason to celebrate.” Blaine and Kurt began walking towards the player exit, Mike and Tina following behind with Sam and Mercedes lagging. “I love you,” Blaine whispered into Kurt’s ear. “Thank you for making this the best year of my life.”

Kurt lit up and squeezed Blaine’s waist. “I love you, too. And you’re so welcome.”

* * *

_Epilogue - Summer 2021_

Anderson Signs Huge Deal to Remain in Atlanta

By Thomas Hall, ESPN.com

The Atlanta Braves and star second baseman Blaine Anderson came to terms on a contract extension meant to keep Anderson around for the rest of his career. The deal is worth $256 million over ten years with options for the 2032 and 2033 seasons.

Anderson, the reigning NL MVP, hinted in the offseason about a desire to head to a team closer to New York so he could spend more time with his husband, Kurt Hummel. When Hummel suddenly left his highly coveted position at Vogue to create his own fashion label, however, the couple agreed that Atlanta would be the ideal place for them to call home.

At just twenty-six years of age, Anderson has already racked up several awards, including Rookie of the Year in 2016 and World Series MVP in 2018 when the Braves defeated the New York Yankees. He is a career .319 hitter with 121 home runs already under his belt. He’s also the first out Major League Baseball player and runs a charity called Simply Unique, aimed to support gay youths in sports. Anderson gained many friends throughout the league after they supported his movement, even convincing catcher Noah Puckerman to leave Philadelphia and sign a five-year deal with Atlanta this past offseason.

“We’ve always seen Blaine as a cornerstone to the team,” owner Bryan Ryan stated at a press conference. “He’s shown he can do everything on the field and off, and keeping him here is just the next step in our plan to continue our run at the top.”

“The organization has always been welcoming,” Anderson added, “and to be able to stay in Atlanta to start a family is an absolute blessing I thought I may not have had a few years ago. This city is my home.”


End file.
